Goodnight, Brother
by sgs09
Summary: Spencer Reid thought of Dean Winchester as family. So how did the deal affect him?   Informant 'verse!
1. The First Sign Of Trouble

**Summary:** Spencer Reid considered Dean Winchester to be family. So how did Dean's deal affect him? _The Informant_ 'verse.

**Spoilers:** For Supernatural episodes, "All Hell Breaks Loose - 1&2", and "Lazarus Rising." None for Criminal Minds.

**Author's Note:** For my _Informant_ 'verse, I knew I had to write this fic. It wouldn't leave me alone. I just kept wondering how Spencer Reid would handle Dean's deal. So this is my take on everything that happened from Sam's disappearance and death in Cold Oak, to the day that Dean came back to life sixteen months later.

The chapters will be leaning towards the smallish side, but there's about thirteen of them, and I'll try not to wait more than a week at most between postings. Also, sorry if this story isn't heavy on action. The narration turned out to be a bit more of the focal point than the action I expected. Apologies. The story kind of wrote itself out how it wanted to be, and I couldn't do much but run along behind it, jotting notes as I went.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except for Margie and Steve Barlow. I _wish_ I owned anything Criminal Minds or Supernatural related, but alas, I do not. If I did, Dean would totally be mine!

* * *

For Spencer Reid, when it came to Bobby and the Winchesters, trouble always started with a phone call.

The few times Bobby was seriously hurt during a hunt, he called to lie and say it wasn't very bad so that Reid wouldn't worry. (But Reid was less naive than Bobby liked to think, and he always heard the truth behind the hunter's words.)

When Sam left for Stanford, he called to tell Reid what was going on. (Reid asked Sam to let him know as soon as he arrived safely, and when he got the call three days later, he passed the information along to Dean so that he wouldn't worry.)

As soon as the Winchester boys realized they had caught the attention of the FBI and of Agent Henrickson, Dean called Reid to ask for some help. (Then Reid set out to meet Henrickson and see how many red herrings he could throw at the agent without being too obvious.)

Trouble for Bobby or the Winchesters always meant a phone call for Reid. So the trouble that began in May of 2007 was no different.

It was almost noon when the phone at Reid's desk rang. He answered it as he always did, his mind still half-engrossed in the preliminary case file he was reading for the third time. The gruff greeting stole his focus immediately though.

"_Hey, kid."_

Reid had known Bobby almost his whole life, and he knew right away that something was wrong. It was in his voice.

Reid realized that whatever had happened, it must be the reason why Bobby hadn't answered his phone that morning. As always, Reid had gone to JJ's office and sifted through her case files to look for any supernatural cases. Fortunately that morning, there had been none that needed Bobby's attention. When the hunter didn't answer his phone, Reid hardly paused to worry about it, figuring that Bobby was busy with something and would get back to him.

"_Spencer, something's happened."_

He glanced around quickly to make sure Hotch wasn't going to come and lecture him for taking a personal call. He would lie and say it was a family emergency if he had to. After all, if Bobby or the Winchesters were in trouble, it wouldn't be much of a lie.

"What is it, Bobby?"

"_Sam, uh...he got taken by the Yellow Eyed Demon yesterday."_

Reid felt his heart plummet in his chest. "Do you know where he is yet?"

"_Yeah. Cold Oak, Minnesota,"_ Bobby said tiredly. _"We're heading there right now actually. Just figured out where we need to go. Dean uh, he had a, uh..."_

"Bobby?"

"_Never mind. It's not important right now. What I called to tell you is that you need to be careful. We uh—Dean and I—we went to talk to Ash at the Roadhouse."_ There was a pause on the line, then, _"Spencer, it's bad."_

"What happened? Is Ash all right?"

Bobby cleared his throat. _"The Roadhouse was leveled. Completely gone. Ash is dead."_

Reid's stomach started to feel queasy. Ash hadn't been a close friend, but he was still a friend. Reid had known him fairly well, though he had rarely seen the man face to face. He was a genius; his IQ was even higher than Reid's, and he could run circles around Garcia on a computer.

Then Reid remembered Garcia. She hadn't known what Ash did for a living, believing that he was involved in cyber security, but they had become friends in the past year or two, after Reid asked Ash to help with something for a case. When the case was solved, thanks to Ash and Garcia's joint work, the two had begun to have competitions on their computers. Reid didn't understand it all, but he knew that, though Ash was even better with computers than Garcia, both had fun and the competition became rather heated. Ash once told him that Garcia was the first challenging competitor he had found in years.

Now he was gone. What would Garcia say...?

"_Reid?"_

"Sorry," he said, coming back to the present. He swallowed. "Was he the only one?"

"_No. The Roadhouse had customers, but didn't seem too busy. Dean and I didn't have time to figure out who was in there though. Once we figured out where Sam is, we hit the road. We're doin' eighty right now."_

More hunters had died. Good men had died.

"Ellen and Jo?" Reid asked hopefully.

"_I don't know, kid... I didn't see them, but they were most likely in the building if..."_

Reid swallowed.

Morgan was walking by his desk, and paused. "Reid? You okay, man?"

Reid spun his chair away from his friend, unable to even form a lie. "What do you want me to do, Bobby? Do you need me to start running...research, or something? Tell me what I need to be doing." He was almost desperate for orders. He needed to be doing _something_.

"_Just sit tight, kid,"_ Bobby said gruffly. _"We think Ash was taken down because of some work he was doing for the boys. He called Dean and said he had some big information—something he couldn't give over the phone. We didn't get there in time."_

"The plane's prepping now," Morgan announced. Reid barely heard him. "Garcia's gonna play the video feed again once we're all there."

Reid's brain caught on Garcia's name. "If you have Ash's computers, I could get a coworker to look at them and see what she could pull off the hard-drives. She's really good with technology, and she's already familiar with his work."

"_We didn't try to pull anything out of the rubble. I doubt there was anything salvageable. Even if there was, I don't know if anyone but Ash could understand the files on his computer. You know how he's always been."_

Reid nodded in resignation. "I know."

After a moment of silence, Bobby sighed. _"Listen, Spencer. I just called to tell you I want you to be careful. If Ash was killed for being our informant..."_

Reid sat a little straighter in his chair. He wouldn't have connected the dots if Bobby hadn't said that. "Do you really think that...? I mean, I work in a huge office, Bobby."

"_I know, kid. I'm not saying whatever this was would try to take you down at Quantico. It might attack at your house for all I know. I just...you've gotta take some precautions, Spencer. We don't know for sure that you're in danger, but I need you to be safe."_

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Reid turned to find Morgan still standing there. His friend motioned to the door. "We've gotta go, Reid. The plane's leaving in twenty minutes."

Reid stood and began gathering his things together. "Bobby, we've got a case. I have to head for the plane. So I won't be in town for a few days, but I'll keep you updated."

"_Be safe, Spencer."_

He swallowed. "I will. I'll be sure to pick up some extra stuff for the office as soon as I can, too."

He was always prepared for minor attacks. As a knowledgeable informant for hunters, he _had_ to be prepared. But this—a possible full-fledged attack on him...on his place of work—he didn't even know how to prepare for that. He didn't know what he was going to do.

"_You should call Barlow,"_ Bobby suggested. _"He could put a few things up around the entrances and exits on the ground floor. It might help."_

"I'll do that," Reid promised. "Together, we should be able to fix it up."

Bobby chuckled. _"I'm sure you'll remember even more of the protective sigils and charms than I could. You've read every single book I've got in my house."_

It was true. "I'll plan out what we can do on the plane, then. I can call him and have him get things in order while I'm gone."

"_I'll call you when we've got Sam back."_

"Call me as soon as you know anything," Reid said. Then he hung up.

Morgan was standing at the side of his desk still. "You okay, man? You don't look so hot."

Reid grabbed his jacket and bag, not looking his friend in the eye. "It's fine. Just some...family issues."

"Your mom?"

"No." Reid didn't elaborate.

* * *

**AN:** Next up-Reid gets the call from Bobby as he and Dean are leaving Cold Oak...! *wince*


	2. A Death In The Family

**Author's Note:** I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter. It wasn't my favorite (I'll announce that one when it comes) but it was the second or third maybe. I had a lot of fun writing it, and just about made myself cry. Lol

Grab your tissues, kiddos! The story continues with Bobby's call as they're leaving Cold Oak.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except for this (hopefully) heartbreaking scene... ;)

* * *

Reid got the next call from Bobby the next morning. The team had just split up in large SUVs. Reid was headed to the station with Gideon and JJ while the others went to the crime scene.

He was somewhat-successfully ignoring worries about the supernatural, and planning for the case that his team was about to enter. He had already called Steve Barlow from his hotel room the night before to talk about things he could put up in the office. It was fortunate for him that Bobby had a friend at Quantico who was both an FBI agent and a part time hunter. Over the years, Reid had become good friends with the man, and he knew he could count on him to give the office building a fair level of safety until Reid got back and could help him finish. It would be hard with such a large building as Quantico, but Barlow would find a way.

He jumped slightly when his phone rang in his pocket, trying too late to hide his nerves from JJ and Gideon. "Dr. Spencer Reid," he said into his phone automatically.

"_Spencer?"_

"Bobby. What's happened?"

"_Spencer...it's Sam."_

Reid covered his other ear to block out the noise of the car. "What happened? Is he okay? Tell me he's okay."

All that met him was silence. A vague part of his brain recognized the fact that the other occupants of the car had gone quiet as well, turning their focus on him.

"Bobby?"

He heard a sigh in the phone. _"We found our way to Cold Oak late last night. And we found Sam. Dean and I were right there. The boy was headin' our way, lookin' a little roughed-up, but smilin', and then, this...this guy just came out of nowhere."_

Reid almost could have sworn his heart stopped for a beat.

"_Sam never—he didn't have a chance. Dean yelled a warning, but none of us could have reacted quickly enough. Dean and I were too far away to do anything."_

He swallowed his emotion down, knowing he had to keep a cool head. "How bad is it? Is he going to be okay?" Even as he asked it, he knew that he shouldn't be optimistic. Bobby sounded too upset.

"_Spencer..."_

"He's alive, isn't he?" Reid asked desperately. "I mean, he has to be alive. Right?"

"_No."_ Bobby's tone was one of complete exhaustion._ "Sam's dead. I chased after the guy, but..."_

Reid used a hand to cover his eyes, wishing his team wasn't here so that he could ask all of his questions. So that he wouldn't be ashamed to shed the tears that he was fighting to hold on to.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate. "De—Morgan?" he gasped out, not able to even form a full sentence, barely remembering to use Dean's middle name.

Bobby understood what he meant though, on both accounts. He knew Reid was asking how Dean was.

They had long ago agreed that Reid should call Sam and Dean by their middle names when he was around his coworkers. After their names showed up on the FBI's Most Wanted list, he didn't want anyone to realize he was friends with a pair of brothers named Sam and Dean. It was risky, especially with Henrickson working only a floor below him at Quantico.

"_He's not doing so good, Spencer. He wouldn't let me burn the body. Said he wasn't ready. We drove to some hole-in-the-wall to regroup. Then he just..."_

"I could come. I'll get a plane, and I can—"

"_Reid."_ Bobby's voice was soft, but firm. _"No. Your team needs you there, and I don't think Dean... He's not going to want to have anyone around right now. He needs some time alone."_

Reid almost tried to argue, but he knew Bobby was right. "Was, uh..." He paused, conscientious of his listening coworkers. "Was the thing there? Did you find what took...?"

"_No. We never saw Yellow Eyes. We found Andy and Eva though, and a few more people. They were all dead. Something really bad went down here."_

Reid swallowed, trying not to imagine how the scene must have looked, bodies of people he had heard so much about, strewn on the ground.

"_Are you going to be okay, Spencer?"_

He honestly didn't know what to say. It was always a risk—life as a hunter was always a risk. But his family wasn't supposed to die. He wasn't supposed to be able to lose Bobby, or the Winchesters, or Ellen and Jo. He wasn't supposed to lose John Winchester, Caleb, and Pastor Jim.

He still almost couldn't believe it. The job had risks, but his _family_ wasn't supposed to die.

"_Spencer."_ Bobby's voice was louder that time.

Reid brought himself back to the phone call, replying automatically. "Yeah, Bobby. Of course. I'm...I'll be okay. You just...take care of Morgan."

Bobby sighed. _"I'll do what I can, believe me. But the boy doesn't want me around. I figure I'll have to split here pretty soon. He needs to be alone."_

Reid knew it was true. "Call me when you get back?"

"_Sure thing, kid. Or you can call me as soon as you've got a free minute. I'll tell you what I know then. Good luck with the case."_ With that, Bobby hung up.

Reid closed his cell phone and leaned back in his chair, still somewhat in shock. It took him a moment to realize JJ was speaking to him.

"Did something happen to Morgan?" She sounded worried.

He had forgotten, when he first planned the aliases with Bobby, how confusing it would be to call Dean by his middle name. Sam was easy—Samuel Brennan Winchester—and he had no problem calling him Brennan. But with Dean—named Dean Morgan Winchester after his mother insisted they use John's middle name—there was the whole issue of having a coworker named Morgan. Somehow though, Reid had never found a better name for Dean. And since he barely ever had reason to even say Dean's middle name around his coworkers, he had kept it.

"No," he answered flatly. "Another friend of mine has been...he's been hurt pretty badly." Somehow, he couldn't voice the fact that Sam was dead. It was almost like, if he didn't say it, maybe it wouldn't be true.

"How?" she asked sympathetically.

"Car accident." It would be the easiest explanation.

"Is he okay?"

He had to close his eyes to keep from sobbing. "No. He's not." And the words pierced through his chest, leaving him feeling queasy and almost like he couldn't take a full breath anymore.

Gideon turned in the passenger seat to look back at him grimly. "Are _you_ okay?"

Reid shook his head, not trusting his voice.

"Do you need to take a day and go see him?"

"I can't do anything for him there. I'd rather have something to concentrate on. I'll stay."

With that decision made, Reid turned to stare out the window, still thinking about Sam and the Roadhouse. Four people had been taken from him in twenty-four hours. Ellen, Jo, Ash, and now Sam. And while he had never met Andy or Ava, he felt their loss as well.

Some days, he wished he had never gotten involved with Bobby's work. He wished he had never asked what was in all of the man's books. He wished he had never become such good friends with the Winchesters...since hunters were almost doomed to die young anyway.

Swallowing, he tried to push those thoughts away. Some days, life just dealt you a bad hand. His father used to say that when Reid was a kid. Now he felt like he understood what the man meant.

He tried to calm down—to get his head back in the game. He needed to be ready to concentrate when they arrived at the station. Despite everything happening with the Winchesters, he still had a job to do. He forced himself to push thoughts of Sam to the back of his mind, already knowing that they would overrun him if he didn't.

He knew they would come back to storm his mind once he was in bed that night. But maybe if he could hold them off until then, he would still be able to function for the case...

* * *

After the phone call from Bobby, Reid's whole day passed in a blur. He called Bobby back during his lunch break and got the full story on everything that had happened in Cold Oak. It took him almost an hour after the call to calm down enough to concentrate on the case again.

Fortunately, the case was solved that evening. The local police had missed something important. It didn't happen often, but it had happened a time or two before.

The problem was that, after Reid and Gideon found the clue and figured out who the unsub was, things had spiraled into a hostage situation at a nearby diner. By the time it was resolved two hours later, one of the hostages had been killed.

And Reid saw it happen on the video feed.

The hostage stood up suddenly, while the unsub had his back to him. But when he tried to make a run for the door, the unsub attacked him from behind. He was dead before he knew what hit him.

It was all too similar to Sam's death, now that Reid knew how the soldier had suddenly come at him from behind with a knife.

Reid threw up in the nearest trashcan. None of the local police commented, but Morgan watched him more carefully after that, and Hotch cast him a nervous glance.

Still, the case was resolved. The man was arrested. The BAU team could go back home now.

* * *

**AN:** Yeah, I totally named Dean after awesome Jeffrey Dean Morgan. I was sitting at my desk, wondering what name works with "Dean" and that's what came to me. Of course, then I had to make a joke of it and decided John's official name in my 'verse is John Morgan Winchester. xp It made me happy.

Sorry for the name confusion. I decided it would be smarter (in Reid's eyes) to not use their real names in front of his team, because by this point the boys had a record and were probably rather infamously known.

Hopefully the names I chose will work for everyone else... lol

Up next: there's good news and there's bad news. Sam will return, but Dean is an idiot with too big of a heart. We all know what happened cannon, but now we'll see how Reid reacts.


	3. Good News And Bad News

**Author's Note:** This is an addition to my Informant 'verse. If you don't know it, check out some of my other stories, and this may make a little more sense.

To all my readers: thank you so much for your awesome reviews! I just found out this story is already on ten people's favorites lists! I was so excited! Lol Your reviews really do make my day, even though I'm a bad person and haven't replied to any yet... *hides face in shame*

To make up for it, I'll give a big reply to everyone here!

Rhymneyfaries: You were my first reviewer for this story! Thanks for your enthusiasm, because I was a little nervous about posting this story originally, since I was afraid it would be too much angst, too little story. Lol Hopefully people will love it as much as I do.

NanC: I totally recognize your name from other stories I've posted, and let me tell you, it feels awesome to start recognizing the people reviewing my stories! It feels like I have honest-to-goodness FANS! Lol I'll give full warning when we get to (what I thought was) the saddest and most sob-worthy chapter, just so you can have your tissues at hand. ;)

BranchSuper: Thanks for reviewing BOTH chapters! In the next chapter, Garcia will have to be told about Ash (*sad face*). And you're right, it gets difficult for Reid to keep everything a secret around his team. They keep finding out stuff is wrong with his life, but he won't really tell them what's going on.

DigiMist: If this is a completely different crossover idea than you've ever read, then I'm glad to be surprising you with a new idea. And if you like this crossover universe, check out some of my other stories, because I have more. ;) Supernatural is my favorite show right now, but I'm still a bit of a noob when it comes to Criminal Minds, so I'm still slightly nervous about writing for it. (So if anything stands out as _very_ wrong, just let me know! I would greatly appreciate it!)

Shilo-Shadow: haha! Thank you so much for liking this story that much. ;) I'll try to update fairly regularly, but I also kind of want to see how long I can make this last, and if I can get a good portion of my next story written as this is slowly going through posting. Lol I really need a deadline for getting the rough draft out on my next story, so I'm kind of using this as a measure for that.

Anon: I'm sorry it took me so long to get this story up and running! I've had it sitting on my computer for a while, but I hadn't finished editing the beginning and prepping it for posting until just recently. I'll try not to advertise stories on my site as much when I'm not close to being ready to post yet. ;) lol That seems to be a bad habit of mine. Xp

Hjalmar: I'm so glad you're enjoying this 'verse! I'm working hard on it, and actually may be posting some oneshots and twoshots soon as tags to some Criminal Minds episodes. So hopefully you guys will have a few more stories to enjoy soon. :)

Thanks to all my reviewers! You guys totally make my day every time I see I have a new review! And guys, guess what? "The Many Hats Of Spencer Reid"—the first story to start this whole 'verse off!—just hit a whopping number of 77 favorites! I can hardly believe it took so fast, and I just about _died_ when I was flipping through some LJ recommendation communities last night and saw my story linked there! ~}XD

Now on to the story...!

**Disclaimer:** I only own rights to my socks. But I did spend yesterday afternoon and evening with a Criminal Minds marathon, pretending all the while that I had some form of right to Spencer Reid. (Don't you just love "research"?)

* * *

The team spent the night in Tennessee, and flew back in the morning. It wasn't until that afternoon, when Reid was back at the office, that he got a call from Bobby.

"_Kid, I've got some good news, and some bad news,"_ he said, not bothering with a greeting.

Reid couldn't help but feel a tremor run through his chest at the thought of more bad news. "What is it?"

"_Well, for starters, you'll never believe who just walked into my house two hours ago—Sam Winchester."_

Reid froze.

Morgan called his name from across the room. "Hey, Reid. Come on. We're going to the conference room for Garcia's presentation."

Reid looked up. "I need a minute, Morgan. Tell Hotch I'll be right there." He spun his chair around then to focus back on the phone call. "Bobby, what do you mean he just walked into the house? You said he was..."

"_I know, kid. He _was_ dead,"_ the older man said. _"That's where the bad news comes in. Dean confessed to me, once Sam was in my study, looking at some books."_

"He confessed? Confessed what?"

"Reid?" Morgan called.

He took the phone away from his mouth long enough to shout, "Just give me a minute here!" Then he turned back to his conversation, trying to ignore the fact that Morgan had looked shocked at him for yelling. He would apologize later.

"Bobby, what did he do?"

Bobby sighed heavily. _"The idjit went and made a deal. For Sam's life."_

Reid's heart ran cold in his chest. "What?"

"_That was kinda my reaction, too. But Dean won't listen to reason. He waited until I was gone, then he just drove out to the first crossroads he could find."_

He closed his eyes. "How long?"

"_A year."_

"A year? That's robbery!" Reid almost shouted.

"_The demon wouldn't be talked out of anything more than that. Apparently Dean's on their wanted list or something."_

He sighed heavily. With Winchester luck, that just figured...

"_He hasn't told Sam yet. I imagine when he does it won't be pretty."_

No. It wouldn't.

"Is there anything we can do, Bobby? Is there some...back-door, or loophole, or...anything?"

"_I don't know of anything, kid. I'm gonna look in my books, but..."_

"I'll see what I can find," Reid offered. "You can look there, but I'll see what I've got."

He had read through most of Bobby's books not too long ago when he took a week of vacation time to go and visit. He knew if there was an answer in one of them, he was going to remember it. He had to.

Bobby's answer was tired. _"Thanks, kid. We'll do everything we can. If there's a way to kill other stuff, there's gotta be a way to stop this thing. And Reid? If you talk to Sam, don't uh, don't tell him he was dead. He doesn't know. Dean just told him he got knocked out or somethin'. He doesn't know about the deal or...anything, really. Just remembers getting hit by from behind."_

"I'll let Dean tell him," he promised. "Is he doing all right, Bobby? Nothing weird has happened?"

"_He says there's a little tightness in his back, where Jake stabbed him, but nothing to worry about, I think."_

"Jake? He knew the guy?"

"_Yeah. I'll explain later, when you have more time. I know you're busy. Basically, it was like a fight camp for Yellow Eyes' kids. He was making them fight it out to find the strongest one. Jake, originally didn't want to fight. But he folded under the pressure. When Dean and I arrived, Sam thought he had taken Jake down. He didn't expect the attack from behind."_

Reid swallowed. "I'll call you tonight for the full story. Are the guys staying with you for a day or two?"

"_As far as I know."_

"I'll call you later, then. Thanks for letting me know, Bobby."

"_Sure thing, kid."_

Reid hung up the phone. Then he sat there for a moment, slouched over his desk, trying to process his way through this. Sam _wasn't_ dead now. And Dean was on his way out the door...?

Some days, he wished he had a normal family. One that was tied together only in blood, and that had normal conversations not starting with supernatural sightings, questions about specific exorcisms, or announcements of friends now being members of the FBI's Most Wanted list.

Normalcy—what he wouldn't give for it!

"Reid?"

He jumped. "Sorry, Hotch. I'm coming. I just...family emergency," he explained lamely.

"Morgan said you were upset. What's going on?"

Reid stood and crossed his arms nervously. For a split second, he had to smile at his luck. He had told JJ and Gideon in the car the day before that his friend had been injured in a car accident. He hadn't ever bothered to correct himself later and say that Sam—_Brennan_—was dead.

The smile fell off his face when he remembered Dean's part in all of this. Hotch was still waiting for an answer though.

"Well, I know Gideon told you about my friend being in the car accident yesterday. It turns out he's okay. He's doing a lot better this afternoon than the doctors predicted."

Hotch nodded, but was studying him carefully. "So what else is going on? You still look like there's something wrong."

Reid swallowed. He should have known he wouldn't be able to hide it. "Um...well, while everyone was at the hospital, Brennan's brother found out he has a form of uh, cancer? The doctors have given him twelve months to live. They don't think there's much they can do."

Hotch grimaced sympathetically. "If there's anything you need..."

Reid nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. He had been running on automatic ever since he heard that Sam was dead. Now he had to switch gears. And while he was relieved that Sam was back, he was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Dean was going to die.

"Maybe you should go home," Hotch suggested. "I'll explain to the team."

"What about the presentation?"

"Garcia can play it back to you tomorrow."

Reid nodded tiredly. "Okay. Thanks, Hotch." He would take this chance to go home and think. He needed to remember whatever he could from Bobby's books that might help Dean.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Reid. Get some rest."

He didn't reply, already knowing he wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.

* * *

**AN:** Next time, Reid has to tell Garcia about Ash... Then you'll get to see a little bit of what the next year has to bring him. The chapter after next has a bit of a surprise for you. ;) In chapters 5 and 6 you'll learn more about Reid's history with Bobby and the boys—and it might not be the history you were expecting!


	4. She Wore Black

**Author's Note:** If you haven't read "A Mystery To Her" it's a bit of a drabble from Garcia's pov about Reid and it mentions her relationship with Ash. This may make a little more sense after you read that, but it's easy to follow even if you haven't.

-EDIT!: Okay guys, so sorry about the confusion that is about to hit you... lol I have had to hack into my story and split up a chapter. I didn't realize when I was posting 4 that I wanted to stick the next two chapters like righhhhhht in the middle of the whole thing. ;p So I am going to leave the first half of Chapter 4 as is. Then I will post my next two chapters, and post the second half of Chapter 4 as its own standalone: Chapter 7. Confusing? Yes. Annoying? Also yes. Necessary? Sorry...but yes. Please bear with me.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned even the smallest right to either Supernatural or Criminal Minds, I would be writing stories for the episodes and mailing them to everyone even remotely related to directing/writing/producing the shows. ;)

* * *

The next day, Reid decided to talk to Garcia. She needed to know about Ash.

Reid had barely slept the past night, but he still got out of bed when his alarm went off at 4am. Actually, he was still awake when it went off, but whatever. He had researched all night. He'd mentally flipped through several books from Bobby's library, and sat at his computer for hours, looking for new information.

Nothing yielded a good result. When his alarm rang only half an hour after he decided to finally try for sleep, Reid was frustrated and exhausted. On automatic, he got up and made his way to Quantico, downing two cups of coffee as soon as possible and flipping through the files on JJ's desk with only mild interest.

When the rest of the team arrived at 7am, Reid was waiting in Garcia's office. She smiled at him, with a cheerful, "Hey, Reid! What's up? Got another search for me?"

It had become a semi-regular occurrence for Reid to come and ask her to help him find things on the computer. His researching skills were nothing like hers. Heck, they were nothing like Sam's or Bobby's... And for a second, he considered the offer. Nearly took her up on it, too. But he found himself shaking his head, not knowing how he would ever tell her what to search for. He hardly knew what to do, himself. Most of the night's computer research had come through flipping from one Internet page to a connected page somewhere nearby. He hadn't had any structure, which was something that frustrated him to no small degree. He needed to find a way to actually research Dean's deal. No more flipping through random pages and sites.

Garcia took her seat, studying Reid until he realized he had spaced out.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking away.

"What's wrong, Reid?" She must have picked up on his mood. No big surprise there—Reid knew he wasn't doing a good job of masking his worry and exhaustion. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head, trying to figure out how to go about this. He wished someone else could give her the news. But there was no one.

"It's Ash," he finally blurted out.

"Ash? What about him? He said he was working on some big project—super important and super secret. We haven't talked to each other in a few days. Is he okay?"

"No, he's not."

"What's going on? What happened?"

Reid swallowed. "Garcia...Ash is dead."

"What?" she gasped.

"The project he was working on—it was for some friends of ours. Really good friends. It was to help protect them from some...people, but...I guess those people found Ash. My friends found him a few days ago. He..." Reid shook his head. "They couldn't do anything. He was gone before they got there."

Garcia had tears in her eyes. "You're sure he's...?"

"Yeah," he answered softly. "I'm sorry. I know you guys were friends."

Garcia wiped at her eyes, nodding.

Reid stood and left the room without another word. There was really nothing left to say. He made it back to his desk, before he even realized he was shaking.

It was a bad way to start a terrible day. And a terrible day to start a worse year.

Garcia wore black for a week and a half. Reid fell asleep at his desk three times in the first two weeks. Their work suffered until Hotch started questioning them about what was going on.

* * *

AN: Sorry this is now really short! In the next chapter, you'll get a better idea of how the deal is affecting Reid. Then the following one, I will go into his background with Bobby and the Winchesters. :) Thanks for all the awesome reviews, guys! They totally make my day!


	5. You Failed

**Author's Note:** Okay, uh...hm. Had a slight issue today when I realized the problem with posting this chapter _here_ in the story. My friend suggested the all-fixing magical hand wave, but alas, my hand wave darn near failed me. So bear with me, because the way this chapter fits in is going to be eh...not so spot-on. Silly timeline.

-EDIT!: Okay guys, so sorry about the confusion that is about to hit you... lol I have had to hack into my story and split up a chapter. I didn't realize when I was posting 4 that I wanted to stick the next two chapters like righhhhhht in the middle of the whole thing. ;p So I am going to leave the first half of Chapter 4 as is. Then I will post my next two chapters, and post the second half of Chapter 4 as its own standalone: Chapter 7. Confusing? Yes. Annoying? Also yes. Necessary? Sorry...but yes. Please bear with me.

Side-note: This chapter and the next will reappear in the opening of my casefic. (At this point, it is a work-in-progress, but I'll get there, I promise!)

This chapter will basically show you guys how badly the deal is affecting Reid.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Supernatural or Criminal Minds.

* * *

Spencer Reid followed Bobby cautiously, a flask of holy water in one hand, and a can of salt in the other. Bobby had a gun with bullets dipped in holy water. They tried to be silent, sneaking through the neighborhood to find a way into the house from their side. Sam and Dean Winchester were coming at it from the back.

"Stay sharp, kid," Bobby whispered. "The demon could be anywhere."

"And it probably has lower-level demons all over this city," Spencer replied quietly.

Bobby smirked at that, because being a Winchester (even one by close association) meant that the Winchester luck tended to follow them around. "Right."

They worked their way to the building, careful to avoid windows and watching in every direction. Silently, they moved to stand on either side of the door. Bobby motioned for Spencer to stay back. Then he reached for the doorknob.

He opened the door slowly. Spencer adjusted his grip on the salt.

Bobby led the way in, with Spencer following silently. With a glance in his direction, Bobby began moving further into the building. Spencer could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He almost wondered if Bobby could hear it.

Dean had said, over fifteen minutes ago, that he could hear dogs barking. Spencer's gut clenched at the thought. They were in trouble. Dean's deal was about to be fulfilled if they couldn't stop it soon. Spencer wasn't sure how much time they had left. If Dean could already hear the hell hounds...

Bobby paused at a turn in the hallway to look back at him. "Come on," he whispered impatiently.

Spencer hurried to catch up.

They moved down the hallway, pausing at both of the two doors on the way, but finding nothing further to investigate in the small rooms. The whole building seemed empty. Spencer saw no signs of any demon.

"Are you sure it's here?" he whispered to Bobby.

The older man just rolled his eyes and continued down the hall. Spencer nodded to himself. There was no way to be _sure_ the demon was here. But all signs had pointed to that being the case.

Spencer froze. "Did you hear that?"

Bobby stopped to listen. "What?"

"Sorry," he whispered nervously. "I thought I heard—"

A gunshot rang out in the silence, echoing down the empty halls. Spencer and Bobby looked at each other. Then they took off running.

Dean yelled something and Spencer heard Sam shout back. He and Bobby hurried down the hallway and turned the corner to find themselves in a large and almost empty room. Sam and Dean were standing in the center of the room, surrounded by a ring of what Spencer knew was Goofa Dust and salt.

Bobby cursed and grabbed Spencer by the shoulder to push him towards the circle. They were almost inside when Dean raised his shotgun and fired on a spot two feet from them. Spencer couldn't help the nervous squeak he let out, but Dean didn't bother to apologize. All too quickly, he aimed and shot again in another direction.

Spencer stood in the circle then, clutching the can of salt and flask of holy water to his chest as if the action might keep his heart from falling out of his chest. His heartbeat was quick and erratic. If he had been able to grasp conscious thought, he would have decided that this was the scariest moment of his life. But he was too nervous to even do that.

It came to him with a sickening clarity that he was about to die.

The demon had sent hell hounds to collect Dean's soul, and while the Goofa Dust would hold for a little while, everyone knew it was only a matter of time until the circle wore away. Even the breath of the dogs could push a line through the circle. They were going to make it inside. And they were going to get to Dean and anyone who tried to stop them.

"What's the plan, Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean's answer was to fire another round into the floor several feet from them.

If only Spencer could see the dogs. It was almost worse hearing them and not knowing for sure where the sound was coming from.

Bobby sighed heavily, holding his gun a little higher. "I got nothin', boys. Spencer?"

Sam and Dean both looked at him questioningly.

Spencer's heart thudded in his chest with guilt. "I don't know what to do," he admitted. "There's no information on stopping crossroads deals!"

Dean shook his head, almost disgustedly. "In all that research, you found _nothing_ useful? We need something, Spencer, so you'd better start thinking!"

Sam's eyes were mournful. "I thought we were going to save Dean. I thought you might find a way when I couldn't."

Spencer gasped in almost physical pain. They blamed him!

Bobby cocked his gun, looking away. "I was hoping you might find a way. What with all of the time you said you spent researching on this."

He had done everything he could though...!

Dean grimaced. "Maybe if you had gotten some help, or maybe if you had spent more time with Bobby's books, you might have found the answer."

Those words haunted him with a force he couldn't have prepared for, looping through his mind to the beat of his racing heart. He hadn't found _the answer_...

_The answer..._

Sam let a hand rest on his shoulder. "I know you tried, Spencer. I guess it just wasn't enough though. I wish..." He paused, the glimmer of a sad smile touching his lips. "I wish I hadn't let myself hope so much. I shouldn't have expected anything to come from your research. It would have made the inevitable a little easier. But..."

"At least we're dyin' as a family," Bobby finished.

Spencer looked from the older hunter back to Sam, and then to Dean. They all wore similar expressions on their faces of disappointment and resignation. Spencer almost couldn't breathe. He had caused this—let this happen! He should have tried harder. He could have found the answers if he had only tried harder!

"Why _didn't_ you try?" Sam wondered aloud.

"You only half-assed it, didn't you?" Dean asked.

Bobby shook his head. "I told you to drive up and see me so you could flip through the books in person. If you hadn't relied on your memory, maybe we could have fixed this."

"You should have tried," Sam said with conviction.

Dean nodded. "You could have done more, if you had really wanted to."

"We're like family," Sam said. "Doesn't that mean something to you?"

"I took you in as a younger brother, and this is how you repay me?"

"I can't survive without my brother, Spencer."

"You failed me, Spencer."

"You failed."

"I expected more from the Boy Genius."

"We trusted you..."

"But you didn't find the answer."

_The answer..._

"You failed me, Spencer..."

_The answer..._

"You failed..."

_The annnswerrrr..._

A sharp and piercing scream broke through the noise, shattering it. Spencer Reid's eyes shot open and he almost lost the contents of his stomach when he saw that he was sitting up in his bed. In Virginia. Without Bobby or the Winchesters anywhere in sight.

His phone was ringing.

Spencer was shaking. A cold sweat coursed through his veins, setting his skin to an icy temperature.

A dream... Just a dream.

Dean's deal was still a good ten months from fulfillment. Spencer had time to search for the answer. He wasn't going to let Sam lose his brother. Bobby wouldn't see another member of his family die. Spencer wasn't going to say goodbye to the man he almost considered a brother.

His phone was still ringing.

Spencer reached for it with a trembling hand. His hands were sweating and he almost dropped the cell phone while trying to answer the call.

"H-hello?" he gasped, still trying to remember how to breathe again.

A familiar voice cut through the sound of his ragged breathing. _"Hey, kid. It was getting late so I thought I'd call ya. Everything all right over there?"_

"Uncle Bobby?"

It was the name even more than the tone that told Bobby something was wrong. Spencer had long ago quit calling him Uncle Bobby after Daniel Reid faked his death and became Robert Singer. (*1)

"_Spencer? What happened? Are you okay?"_

Spencer's shoulders began to shake as he fought for control. "No," he said quietly. "I'm not okay. Dean—he...he's going to die. I can't stop it, Bobby. I can't stop it."

"_What are you talking about, Spencer?"_

"I don't know how to stop the deal, Bobby. I've been drowning in research so much that the team is starting to ask questions at work, but I'm not finding any answers. I can't figure out how to stop Dean's deal and we've already wasted two months trying!"

"_Calm down,"_ Bobby said mildly. _"Take a breath and listen. Boy, it is not your job to stop this deal. Ya hear me? We are all in this together. Don't you dare go thinking this is your mess to clean up. All of us are searching for a way out—all of us."_

"If there _is_ a way, I should be able to find it," Spencer argued. "Maybe if I came to Sioux Falls, I could—"

"_Spencer."_

He stopped.

"_You listen to me. You have a job in Virginia. Your team needs you, and you're doing good work there. You're saving people. What you and your team does, it's much like what we hunters do. It's important. You're needed there."_

"I'm needed by Dean, too."

"_Dean isn't your responsibility. Your team is your first priority."_

Spencer said nothing. He heard Bobby sigh.

"_Should I guess that you forgot to call me because you started researching again this morning? That stuff is going to rot your brain if you don't let up for air once in a while."_

Spencer frowned in confusion. "What? 'Forgot to c—'" He caught sight of his bedside clock and nearly cursed in surprise. "I'm late!"

He was out of bed and halfway across the room in a flash.

"_Late?"_ Bobby repeated. _"You mean you aren't even at the office yet? You overslept?"_

"I—I guess so. I don't, I mean, I was up late last night, working. I must have missed my alarm."

"_Spencer, I've told you this before, and I'm tellin' you again: the deal is not your first priority. I won't let you kill yourself over this. You have to take care of yourself, ya idjit."_

"I know, Bobby," he said, grabbing a clean shirt from his drawer. "I have to go. I need to get to work."

"_I'll call ya tomorrow, kid. Try to get some sleep tonight though. Barlow tells me you've been comin' into work tired."_

Of course Barlow would be more loyal to Bobby than to Spencer...

"I'm okay, Bobby."

"_Are you?"_

"Yeah. Your call just woke me from a nightmare, that's all. I'm fine, and I really do need to get to work now. I'll call you later."

* * *

**AN:** Did you really think for a minute that Bobby or the boys would say those things to Reid? I was hoping I might at least sell it decently well for a second.

Poor Reid... *hugs him*

(*1) Researching Criminal Minds, I found that Spencer used to have an uncle (his father's brother) but that he died. In the next chapter, I'll explain more about Spencer's (and Bobby's) background. For now, know that Bobby used to be Daniel Reid, the older brother of William Reid and uncle of our beloved Spencer.

Again, sorry for the confusion with my chapters! I will try to post the next one quickly in apology. ;]


	6. The Family History

**Author's Note:** I fail at life. Fail, fail, fail. I am so sorry it's taken me this long to update! School jumped out of the shadows to swallow me...! I have had at least one test every week since school started. (And a paper too.) Most weeks, I had multiple tests. It's been so bad that last week I actually considered dropping out of school... Bad, bad, bad stress level.

*Deep Breath* ... *Hold* ... *Breathe Out* ...! [Repeat]

However, I am back. I told my friend to _force_ me to write tonight, and she did. So here we go, another chapter up, of the possibly-15 that will be this story. Finally, you get the background on how Bobby and Spencer know each other! Hopefully you guys will approve.

Just a note...I don't know much about Spencer's father. I have not yet seen the episode that introduces him to the show. And I haven't watched _nearly_ as much Criminal Minds as I have Supernatural, so I realize this is going to make things _slightly_ AU. I'm trying to write this 'verse as cannon as possible, but in things like Spencer's history with his father, things will be a tiny bit different simply because of lack of knowledge. Bear with me, and pretend it's awesome. (*laugh!*) Thanks, y'all!

Originally, this chapter was mostly just narration of how Reid and Bobby's past history began. But as I was editing, it suddenly turned into scenes from their first meeting. It made me happy, but that's why it took so long. The story changed on me! lol Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Please picture Reid as cutely as possible, because a 6-year-old Spencer Reid...? Yeah, that would be freaking adorable. ;p

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, or Criminal Minds. This is one of the saddest facts of my life right now. I do however sometimes pretend to own them, and therefore write stories about them. This is one of the happiest facts of my life right now.

* * *

Spencer had never been cut out for the life of a hunter. He had known that from early childhood. As a kid though, he had gotten involved in the world of hunting.

It really all started with his uncle, Daniel Reid. Spencer had never met his uncle before he and his wife died in a mysterious house accident. He was never told exactly what happened. All he knew was that his father had once had an older brother.

When Spencer was six though, his father took him home from school early one Friday and took him to the airport. They flew to South Dakota, and though his father tried to explain that this trip had something to do with his dead Uncle Daniel, Spencer wasn't quite sure what to think.

His father didn't explain much. He only said that Spencer's uncle wasn't, in fact, dead. Aunt Karen was though. And Spencer couldn't call Uncle Daniel by his real name when he saw him.

Spencer's father got a rental car at the airport in South Dakota. Then they drove for an hour to reach where Uncle Daniel—though that wasn't his name anymore—now lived. Spencer felt apprehensive as they drove, wondering what the man was like, and trying to understand why his name was different now.

The house was out in what felt like the middle of nowhere. Their car drove under a sign reading, "Singer's Salvage Yard." Spencer couldn't help but stare with wide eyes as his father parked the car in front of the house that needed a new coat of paint. There were junk cars and broken parts strewn across the grassy lot that surrounded the house. He stuck close to his father as they approached the front porch.

Just as he was about to set foot on the porch, the front door swung open to reveal a large man in a baseball cap. At first the man's eyes looked dark and angry. He stared at Spencer's father like he wanted to yell at him.

It made Spencer grab hold of his father's pants leg nervously. He moved a step closer.

The motion caused the man to look down. His face softened a little when he saw Spencer. Then he suddenly looked ashamed. Or maybe guilty? Spencer couldn't figure out why the man looked upset like he did.

His father's voice broke the silent tension. "Daniel..." he said, his voice strained.

The man—Spencer's uncle!—sighed as he turned to go back into the house. He left the front door open for them. Spencer looked up at his father, but William only pressed a hand against his back to direct him up the stairs of the porch. They entered the house to see the stranger's back disappear into the kitchen doorway.

He came back a moment later with a glass of water for each of them. Spencer's father took a sip from his glass nervously, then fumbled with it in both hands. Spencer drank his in two long sips, hoping it might please the man if he drank the whole thing. While this man was his uncle, Spencer wasn't so sure he wanted to do anything that might upset him. Uncle Not-Daniel still seemed a little angry.

"How did you find me?" he asked suddenly, making Spencer jump a little bit.

He must have caught the motion, because he gave Spencer a tiny smile of...apology? Amusement? Spencer wasn't sure. But at least the man didn't have a mean smile. Maybe he was more friendly than he seemed.

"A coworker was on a business trip to Sioux Falls two weeks ago. He saw a picture in my office this morning. Swore he had seen you here. He said you fixed his car."

The man seemed to think about that for a moment. "Chrysler?"

"Yeah."

He nodded at that.

"He said you were going by Singer now..." It sounded almost like a question, the way his father put it.

"Yeah. Bobby Singer."

"Why?"

The man sighed. Then he glanced at Spencer, and William must have understood it for some message because he immediately suggested to Spencer that he go outside and play for a little while as he and Uncle Bobby talked.

Spencer didn't want to go outside. It was hot, and there was nothing out there except for old cars. But he agreed, not wanting to argue with his father.

So he went outside. But after only an hour of walking in circles around the salvage yard, he was bored beyond belief. He slipped inside through the kitchen door as quietly as he could. Then he paused just inside the room, listening for where his father and uncle were. He didn't want to get in trouble for coming back so soon. And he certainly didn't want to get sent back out once they realized he had come in.

"You have to be kidding!"

It was his father's voice.

"I'm being as serious as I ever have been. You have to believe me, Will."

"But a _demon_? You're really asking me to believe in a _demon_?"

Spencer slipped out of the kitchen, careful to not be seen as he passed by the living room doorway. Fortunately, both Uncle Daniel—Bobby!—and his father, had their backs to the door. He hurried silently down the hallway to doorway that he had caught sight of earlier.

He didn't know what his father and uncle were discussing. But he had seen a large shelf of books in another room down the hall. They were practically calling his name.

He slipped silently down the hallway and into the back room he had seen. Then, for a long moment, he stood in the room staring at the floor-to-ceiling book shelves—all full—trying to figure out where to even begin.

It took him a moment to choose, but then he was off. He pulled a book at random from a lower shelf, nearly swallowed it whole in fifteen minutes, though he was so surprised by what it said that he read more slowly than usual. It was a book on demons. It made him wonder if his father and uncle were discussing this book. Maybe this was just another fiction novel about stuff like that...

Spencer replaced the book and grabbed another. Again, he was surprised by the information that he found there. But still, he breathed in the information, acknowledging it even if not understanding and accepting it.

This continued on for another three hours. The quiet swishing of pages was broken only by the occasionally-rising voices coming from the living room. Spencer couldn't remember now how many books he went through that afternoon. He lost himself in the huge information-download, and forgot about everything else. He didn't even hear his father calling for him.

Apparently William had suddenly realized Spencer never came back inside, and was upset when he couldn't find his son. He came into the study to find his son sitting on the floor, at least two dozen books scattered around him, and some of them left open to interesting spots.

For a long moment, William just stared in shock. Then a new set of quiet footsteps reached the room. A gruff laugh echoed in the quiet room, startling Spencer. He looked up guiltily, suddenly afraid that his uncle was going to be upset with him for messing with the books. But the man was standing there, shit-eating grin on his face.

There was little William could do after Bobby caught sight of Spencer. Before the Reids left two days later, Bobby had already spoon-fed Spencer enough information via quiet discussions in the kitchen while William was on the phone with his office, and by slipping him books to take to bed each night. Spencer couldn't get enough information. He was enthralled with the idea of monsters and creatures of the night. Bobby had been worried at first, but relieved to find that Spencer handled knowing about the supernatural fairly well.

William caught on during their last day of the visit. He yelled at his brother for a good fifteen minutes for trying to corrupt his son, but when he saw that it was upsetting Spencer, he quieted down. Then, for the first time that weekend, he tried to keep an open mind as his brother (and son) talked. Surprisingly, he found himself kind of interested, even if he was a bit skeptical yet.

When William and Spencer left that evening, Bobby packed a few more books in Spencer's bag. Spencer took them home to read. William even flipped through them some, though he was careful to keep them out of Dianna's sight at the house.

Books started arriving in the mail once in a while, and William would mail them back after Spencer had read them. When Spencer had questions, he called his uncle, and Bobby was always ready to help him understand things. It was a little frightening to him, hearing this six-year-old nephew of his swallowing so much knowledge constantly, but Bobby was also impressed, and a little bit relieved for the ease it was placing on his relationship with his brother, since William usually took the phone after Spencer was done asking questions. Sometimes even William started asking questions of Bobby. His interest in the subject grew slowly, but steadily.

Still, Spencer never really saw it coming. Now he thought he should have, but at the time, he just didn't know what to watch for... Spencer's mother was doing more poorly than ever, and life at home was getting difficult between his parents. He used the literature from Bobby to ignore the arguments, and did homework to block out the situation at home.

Only eight months after William found out about the supernatural from his estranged brother, he left his family. Spencer wished he had seen it coming. He had known his mother and father were having problems, but he never suspected his father would just up and leave.

He called Bobby immediately, once he realized his father wasn't coming back home. Bobby didn't know exactly what had happened to William. He knew enough to tell his young nephew that his father was learning to become a hunter now. He had heard it on the hunter's grapevine of information.

Spencer knew that his father had left only days after his mother got suddenly worse. She saw someone die, and it changed her; that's all he knew. William never told his son that this event was caused by something supernatural though. Bobby had to explain that. He had gotten a call from William just before the man left Las Vegas. He tried to convince him to stay, but William wanted to kill whatever it was that had made their neighbor become a murderer.

William Reid got in contact with some hunters, and began learning the game. Bobby tried to stay in touch with him, and he called Spencer sometimes to tell him whatever he knew, but slowly William faded out of reach from his family.

He wouldn't call Spencer or Bobby. Bobby figured that it was because William knew he would send his brother straight back home to take care of his son. Spencer needed him, especially with his mother as she was now.

Spencer was heartbroken. His father had left him, and his mother was now very sick. Bobby became family though, in a new way. He came to see Spencer in Las Vegas—though he hated the city. And in the summers, though Diana Reid thought she had signed papers to send her son off to summer camp, Spencer met Bobby near his school, and the two of them flew to Bobby's house together. He spent summers with his uncle, free from the isolation and bullying of summer camp. In a way, it was still like summer school, but instead of studies in mathematics or science, Bobby taught him exorcisms and the method and creation of protective sigils.

John Winchester showed up on Bobby's doorstep a few summers later. One thing led to another, a joint-hunt catalized things, and then the Winchester boys became frequent visitors during the summer months.

Since neither had to be in school, it was easy for John to leave the kids at Bobby's house with Reid, so the two of them could go off hunting together. With the boys all together, (and the phone numbers of hunters like Pastor Jim, Caleb, and others posted on the fridge,) the boys were able to get along well at the salvage yard.

The Winchesters grew to be close friends of Spencer's. They were among his first real friends, and became family in their own way. The boys were like nephews of Bobby's almost, and it made Spencer like a cousin. For a nine-year-old boy with a shattered family, that meant everything to him.

Everyone knew Spencer would never be a full hunter. He knew all of the theoretical, but had never been on an actual hunt. It wasn't his thing, and they accepted it. He helped Sam research hunts, and helped Dean plan strategies for attack. Even John came to accept the fact that this young boy knew as much (if not more) about hunting than he did. He came to respect the kid, and was glad that he could be a friend to his boys.

When Sam and Dean started hunting more regularly with their father in their teen years, John still made it a point to give them some free time at Bobby's place with Spencer. By that time, Spencer was working through his second college degree, but he still made time in the summers to be "home" with the boys.

Then, when Spencer took his position at the BAU, he had less time to spend at Bobby's. Thus started the era of phone calls. He started calling Sam randomly to check up on his "cousins." And the boys responded by calling him every now and then to see how he was doing.

* * *

**AN:** I suck, I suck, I suck. Again, I'm sorry it took me so long to post this! *wails* Seriously, you have no idea how bad I feel about this. But this chapter ran away with my hopes and dreams and completely changed itself. (True, it's _better_ than before, but still, darn this chapter for being so difficult to pound out!)

Up next...! A short overview of Spencer's awful year, waiting for Dean's deal to come up. Then...(*drumroll*)...you get to see Spencer's antsy nerves attack him while he is waiting on that very last day of Dean's deal. (*Wipes tears away*) After this chapter of anxious waiting, there _will_ be a Tissue Warning. This warning is for my favorite, but most heartbreaking, chapter. It's the actual place that I first _started_ writing this story. There was a split-second idea for a conversation, then suddenly *boom* story idea and a random chapter was in progress. lol

Again, I _suck_. I know. I'm sorry...! *trudges off to corner to bang head against wall and look pitifully at readers, begging for forgiveness with big, doey, tear-filled eyes*


	7. A Disaster

**Author's Note:** I won't even try to make an excuse this time. I suck. Sorry for not updating sooner. You have no idea how crazy my semester became...! *tired sigh* But since I'm trapped at a McDonalds for the next hour, before 8am on a Wednesday morning, I am going to start updating as quickly as I can!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Criminal Minds or Supernatural. My friend did by me a DeanGirl t-shirt though. I own this 'verse, and Steve Barlow—sadly that's it.

* * *

Spencer arrived at the office only twenty minutes late, according to his team. But he knew he was actually more than two hours late. His coworkers just didn't know that he always came two hours early to sift through the case files on JJ's desk for anything he needed to alert Bobby about.

Reid entered Quantico at a near-running pace. He made it to the elevators just as one was about to close, and someone held it for him. He slipped inside, thanking the man breathlessly before he realized who it was.

Special Agent Steve Barlow glanced at his watch. "Running a little late?"

"I overslept. I'm sorry."

Barlow shrugged off the apology. "It's fine, kid. If I had been upset, I would have called to find out where you were. I figured something just came up."

Reid had missed his morning meeting with Barlow in the shooting range. After he went through JJ's files every morning, he practiced with the older agent. Though none of his team knew about the daily practice, he planned to use it as a cover-story if he ever needed to explain why he was at the office so early every morning. Barlow would back the story up too, since he was a part-time hunter and an old friend of Bobby's.

"So what happened?" Barlow asked curiously. "Just overslept?"

"I was up late last night," Reid explained, a little embarrassed. "I never even heard my alarm."

"Spencer."

"I know. Bobby's already lectured me this morning."

Bobby hadn't commented at first when Reid began to sound more and more tired during their morning conversations. And he never came right out and said it, but he knew what Reid was doing. Bobby was doing the same thing, himself.

They were both searching for a way to end the deal.

Reid had started mentally re-reading every one of Bobby's books. Bobby read through many of them for a fourth or fifth time in his life. They researched like crazy. They called in favors, and asked other hunters for information.

Nothing had yielded an answer yet. And it was weighing on both of them.

But life continued on, whether they were prepared to continue with it or not. Reid still had his job at the BAU. Bobby was still a hunter, first and foremost. They both tried to keep up with their work, but they were buried in research more nights than not.

The difference was that Reid still had regular hours to keep every day. Bobby at least had the option to take or leave hunts. It was easier for him to spend time researching.

Barlow sighed. "You've got to sleep, kid. You can't keep researching Dean's deal like this if it's going to kill you."

"I know," he said, but his resigned tone was far from convincing.

"Spencer..."

The elevator doors opened on his floor and Reid almost darted away. But Barlow grabbed him by the arm. "I'm serious, kid. If you don't start taking better care of yourself, I'm going to call Bobby. And you know he's gonna call Dean then. What do you think Dean would have to say about this?"

That gave Reid a pause. For a second, he was too thrown to even reply. Then he shrugged out of Barlow's hold, mumbling that he had to get to work.

Morgan greeted him as usual when he arrived. He slipped into his desk chair just as Hotch came out of his office to say they had a new case. Wordlessly team headed for the conference room. Garcia started the presentation, and JJ began to explain their new case.

"Recently there's been a string of murders in Texas. The local law enforcement is calling it a copycat of serial killer that hit this town about 70 years ago."

Only a few minutes into the team conference, Reid knew there was something different about this case—unnatural. He could feel it in his gut. It didn't take him long to realize why. The case had all the hints and evidence of being a supernatural case.

Before he could even protest—not that he would have known what to say, or that he would have had any justification for saying it—they were on a plane for Texas.

Reid called Bobby to warn him just before he got on the plane. Bobby growled at him for missing the case, but not for long. He knew why Reid had overslept. The deal was weighing on all of them heavily, even if it didn't seem to be bothering Dean very much. So after a moment Bobby sighed and told him the Winchesters were in New Mexico. He would send them to Texas.

To sum it all up, the BAU team had never felt such uncertainty in the closure of a case before. Reid was the only one who ever knew, for sure, who the serial killer had been. (Or rather, _what_ it had been.) The BAU team was confused, minus one member, but even worse than that, they were angry.

The case was a disaster, on all accounts(**). They didn't catch the killer, but rather had the man handed to them, dead. They ran into two escaped convicts and wanted men, even having them both under custody at some point, but were unable to arrest the infamous Winchester siblings. Hotch and Reid were both injured, (Hotch with a concussion, and Reid with bruises galore,) though the former didn't remember how it had happened. And when it became apparent that the Winchesters had disappeared from the town, the whole team was dressed-down by a very angry Special Agent Victor Henrickson.

The case was a catastrophe. And after it, Reid swore to himself that nothing like this would ever happen again. He promised Bobby (and the Winchesters) that he would put his work at the BAU first—his informative work for Bobby _and_ his paid job—before focusing on breaking Dean's deal.

Reid began going to sleep early again, and waking up at four a.m. to search through JJ's files. In the next ten months, he never had a repeat of the fiasco. He stopped missing his morning checks of JJ's files, and the BAU was not assigned to any more cases involving the supernatural.

It took Reid a while to sleep at his regular hours again, but he forced himself to do it. He forced his mind to empty itself of Bobby's books every night, lying in his bed, and closed his eyes against the images of pages and texts. Slowly, life was realigned, and settled into its routine.

This lasted until the night before Dean's deal came up.

* * *

**AN:** (**) The case I alluded to here will (hopefully) be written out as a casefic soon. It'll be a crossover for Supernatural and Criminal Minds, of course, and basically be a casefic for both of them.

Also, if there are discrepancies between the allusion I added here, and the actual fic that I will one day write—just call it "creative license" or a lack of planning. I don't have the fic exactly outlined yet, so it's hard to allude to a case that hasn't happened. ;)


	8. Today's The Day

**Author's Note:** Since I have been updating very slowly, I'm feeling a bit guilty. So here's a second chapter for the day! Enjoy!

The day that Dean's deal comes due...! Dun dun DUNNNNNNNNN!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Supernatural or Criminal Minds. But I WISH I did!

* * *

Reid slept only three hours the night before Dean's deal came due. He spent most of the night lying in his bed, reworking his way through Bobby's books for seemingly the hundredth time. None of them held the answer he was searching for.

He got out of bed at 4am as usual, and bought coffee on the way to the office, because he refused to miss his morning check of JJ's files, even under these situations. Maybe it was because he had promised Dean all those months ago. Somehow that seemed more important than wasting another hour or two pretending that he could sleep.

There was only one case to report from JJ's office. It sounded like a werewolf attack. So Reid made a call to Rufus and asked him to pass it on to whomever he knew could take it. Reid didn't bother calling Bobby about it, since he was going to be leaving in a few hours with Sam and Dean to search out Lilith. Their plan was risky—waging war on a demon—but it was the only card they had left to play.

Reid wished he had stats on how many people had survived attempts to break their deals. He wished he had a stat for how many people had even _tried_ to break their deals. He wished he could tell Bobby something about the likeliness that the three of them would live to see the next day. But he didn't know. He didn't have stats to quote or past events to reference. What Bobby and the boys were planning—this was new. And it was dangerous.

By the time Reid made it downstairs to the shooting range to meet Barlow, he was on his second cup of coffee, and he wasn't sure whether his hands were shaking just slightly from the caffeine, the lack of sleep, or the sheer overpowering sense of adrenaline and fear that had been running through him since he got out of bed. He knew he had no answers for Dean. He knew he couldn't help in any way. His research had failed. There was nothing left that he could do.

Barlow didn't comment when Reid's aim was worse off than usual. He missed his target more often than not. But Barlow understood. He wasn't as close to the Winchesters as Reid was, but he certainly knew them. He was also well aware of how close Reid was to the Winchesters, and he hated to see things spiraling so out of control.

Reid could tell that Barlow was watching him more carefully than usual. He could feel the older agent studying him as he lined up every shot. He could sense the gentle prodding the man was doing with the way he directed their conversation throughout the hour of target practice.

"Keep your feet further apart," Barlow would say. "They should be your shoulders' width apart." Then he would add on something like, "You know, I once saw Bobby take down this Wendigo when we were both younger. He full-on tackled the thing, not even caring about its claws." And he would tell some story about how Bobby had almost single-handedly taken down a monster. They had been partners on many hunts back when Barlow was just starting out, and when he was a rookie in the FBI, so he certainly had many stories to draw from.

"One time, when I was in Japan with him for those two months, we were up against this thing—I don't even know what it was, because I've never seen anything like it—I don't think even Bobby knew what it was exactly. He'll tell you differently of course, but it's Bobby," Barlow said with a fond roll of his eyes. "Anyway, it dropped out of a tree in some park one night while we were tracking another monster, and I swear, my heart stopped for a moment. But Bobby just blinked once and fired his gun. Hit the thing with a blessed silver bullet once in the heart and once in the head, and that was that."

Reid supposed it was meant to encourage him into thinking that Bobby would be able to take down Lilith. He wasn't quite so naive as to believe the stories were completely true though. Maybe he was cynical, but he doubted Bobby could tackle a vampire—one-handed—and behead it with only a butterfly knife.

Ah well, he still appreciated the gesture. It was nice of Barlow to try...

Reid made it up to his desk that morning, third and fourth cups of coffee in hand, feeling marginally better for having met with Barlow. Target practice had relaxed him slightly, if only because it had taken his mind off of Dean for a few minutes. The stories Barlow had told him had been amusing at least, in their embellishments, though Reid wouldn't have said that to Barlow's face. He had even recognized two of them as stories Bobby had told him years ago, but they were both inflated to the point of making Bobby sound like some kind of superhuman hunter.

He decided he would have to relate some of the tales for Bobby later, just to give the man a good laugh.

Morgan smirked at the sight of his two cups of coffee making some teasing comment, but Reid ignored him and went to sit at his desk. After a few minutes, Morgan came back to apologize, asking if he was all right.

"You look like you barely got any sleep at all," he commented.

Reid shrugged, not looking him in the eye. "Rough night."

"Nightmares?" Morgan asked, because that was a common enough symptom of their job.

Reid hardly knew what to tell his friend. Part of him wanted to just unload—to tell him all about Dean and about what was going to happen that night at midnight. He wanted to be able to share the burden he had been carrying all year.

But he didn't. He was smarter than that.

So he just nodded. "Thinking of some rough cases." Then he took a large gulp of one of his cups of coffee.

He was onto his fourth cup before Hotch even called the morning meeting in the conference room. Morgan didn't tease him anymore though. And the rest of the team assumed he was only on his first.

If his hands had been trembling slightly when he met with Barlow in the shooting range, he was all-out shaking by the end of the team meeting. The team cast him worried glances through the briefing, but they waited to ask him if he was all right until after their business had been discussed.

The trembling that had begun in his hands was spreading outward, it seemed. A tiny part of him cursed himself for having drunk so much caffeine. Another part of him was just grateful that he had something else to worry about for a minute. There's nothing like a slight case of caffeine overdosing to get your mind off your problems.

Morgan frowned at him just as Garcia was signing off from the meeting. "Reid, are you okay?"

"Of course," Reid said, feigning innocent surprise. "Why?"

"You don't look so good."

"And you're shaking," Prentiss pointed out, looking slightly concerned.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "How much coffee did you have, Reid?"

He shrugged, self-conscious and not about to admit the truth.

Hotch frowned. "Morgan, go get him something to eat. Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi, you can get back to work. Reid, I want to see you in my office."

Reid couldn't tell if the flutter in his heart was from being in trouble with Hotch or from the caffeine.

When they reached his office, Hotch sat on the edge of his desk, studying the younger agent. "Reid, what is going on? You've been stressed for several days now, you look like you're not sleeping well, and now you've just about made yourself sick with caffeine. Is there something we need to discuss?"

He tried to shrug and was about to say it was nothing, but Hotch recognized the motion and glared. "Don't tell me it's nothing when it's something. I need to know that you are capable of doing your job, and right now, you're making me question that."

Reid looked down at his feet, wondering how he could explain this. Then he remembered what he had told Hotch a year ago. "A friend of mine, um..." He swallowed. "He's having surgery. Today. It's completely experimental, and the doctors don't know if he'll make it. He's at the hospital right now, with his family, but..."

"Do you need to be there?" Hotch asked. Or offered.

Reid knew he couldn't be. He was no hunter. He would just get in their way. So he shook his head. "I can't. They're all the way on the other side of the country, and there's really nothing I could do for them anyway."

Hotch nodded, understanding. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"A little."

Hotch knew him well enough to see how little Reid meant, and grimaced. "Hence the coffee..."

Reid nodded, embarrassed. "I won't do it again."

"See that you don't."

Before Reid even had time to reply, his phone erupted with an AC/DC song in his pocket. He grabbed it quickly, already knowing who it was. "Dr. Spencer Reid."

"_Hey, Spencey. How's my favorite Wonder Boy?"_

* * *

**AN:** Oh my freaking gawsh! My favorite chapter is next! *happy dance of awesome*

Oh...but um, yeah, tissue warning for the next chapter! It's the first chapter I wrote of this story actually, and the one that inspired me to write this entire story. So yeah. Get excited, but keep your tissue box handy next chapter.


	9. Brothers

**Author's Note:** You guys have no idea how much I love you! Your comments are pushing me to finish this! I keep re-reading my comments pages whenever I'm feeling unmotivated. lol As you know, I have had trouble getting this story up in a consistent manner (*sighs*...sorry!) but now that my semester is over (FINALLY!) I feel up to the challenge of posting this thing.

Sidenote: It's been a rough week. In the middle of all my finals last Friday, I managed to (I _thought_) pull a muscle in my side from coughing really hard. However, yesterday I realized that one section of my right rib cage doesn't look like it should...and now I'm kinda freaking out that I may have broken a rib or something. Yikes! So um, if I disappear for a day or two, wish me luck and hope for the best! I'm hoping I'm overreacting, but I'm gonna go to the doctor today or tomorrow and find out what happened.

Now on to the story...! ALERT: tissue warning! As I wrote at the end of the last chapter, this is the scene that sparked this whole story, and the first one I wrote, though it's undergone massive editing since then.

This is Dean's goodbye.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Criminal Minds or Supernatural except for a t-shirt and a fangirl complex.

* * *

Reid's phone erupted with an AC/DC song in his pocket. He grabbed it quickly, already knowing who it was. "Dr. Spencer Reid."

"_Hey, Spencey. How's my favorite Wonder Boy?"_

Reid's eyes closed, and he struggled for composure. After a deep breath, he was able to answer. "Dea—Morgan," he said, fighting for a normal tone. He turned his back to Hotch in hopes of gaining some semblance of privacy. "Hey, man. How are you doing?"

"_Well it's been interesting, I'll tell you that. Bobby says it's because I'm getting so close to the end of my road or whatever, but uh...never mind. It's just been a weird day."_

"Piercing the veil," Reid guessed.

Dean sighed softly, most likely knowing then that Reid had read up on everything that Dean was likely to experience before his deal came due. He tried to help Reid worry a little less. _"It's not so bad. Really, the worst part of it is that Bobby and Sam wouldn't let me drive. Possibly my last day on this earth and they don't let me drive my baby."_

Reid wished he wouldn't talk so casually about this. But that was just Dean's way. "When are you going in? Are you still on the road?"

"_We're a few hours out still. Should reach it before dark. We'll go in as soon as the sun goes down. We're making a pit-stop right now, so that's why I had time to break away and call you."_

Reid wasn't sure what to say. Dean was hours from likely death, and he couldn't think of anything to say. There was so much he wanted to tell him, but nothing seemed like it could be enough.

Dean cleared his throat over the line. _"Listen, Spencer, I just called because I knew you'd be worrying about us. I wanted to remind you to breathe."_ He laughed, but it was strained. _"I know how you are, little man. Stay calm and don't think about tonight when there's nothing you can do."_

Reid knew he didn't mean for that to sound harsh, but it still felt like a stab in the gut to be told he couldn't help. "But what if I missed something?" he asked, almost desperate to make Dean understand. "What if there was something in Bobby's books, and I missed it? What if there's an answer to this all, and I just haven't found it yet?"

He had begun to pace, wound up from the coffee.

"_Spencer. Calm down. See? This is what I was talking about. You're no good to your team if your head's not in the game. And your team needs you."_

"You're family." Reid argued.

"_Your team is family too, man. And they need you. The boy-wonder thing you have going on is what completes the team. They got your back, and you've got to have theirs. Don't bail on them because of me. I can't let you do that."_

Reid stopped at Hotch's office window, staring down at his coworkers. Morgan was setting some fast-food bags down on Reid's desk, joking with Prentiss. JJ walked by, files in hand, adding her own shot to the lighthearted banter. Hotch was still sitting silently behind Reid, patient but with a strong presence.

Each one of them was irreplaceable. They did need him. Together, everyone formed the team. But if one member wasn't focused, or was off his game, it could throw the whole team off.

"_Spencer? Are you still there, man?"_

He swallowed. "Yeah... I'm still here."

"_Are you going to stay focused today? Help your team?"_

"I'll do my best."

"_That's my boy," _Dean said, faking fatherly pride.

There was a moment of silence, but Reid couldn't figure out how to speak around the lump in his throat.

"_Hey, Spencer?"_

"What?" He pretended he hadn't choked on the word.

Dean sighed awkwardly. _"Look, you and I both know this night might not go as planned. I'm trying not to say anything pessimistic around Sammy, but we all know what might go down."_

Reid felt a tear slip down his cheek, but he forced his voice to become level. "Yeah. I know."

"_Can I ask you for a favor?"_

"Anything."

"_Will you...will you promise to look after Sammy?"_

The quiet request pierced through Reid's chest as it came home to him again that Dean was going to die. He knew this was the last thing Dean was ever going to ask from him.

Taking in a stuttering breath, Reid closed his eyes. "Dea—_Morgan_—I promise you, I will do everything I can. You have my word."

"_Thanks, man. I just, I know he won't take care of himself if this goes down wrong. I don't want him...doing anything dumb or... or whatever. He needs someone to keep him grounded. I know Bobby will do what he can, but I just... I need to know he's gonna be taken care of."_

"I'll do whatever I can," he repeated, fighting the urge to sob. "I'll stay in touch with Bobby, and together we're going to take care of him. We'll be okay."

Dean sounded a little choked up. _"Thanks. It means a lot to know you'll be here for him."_

He ran a hand across his eyes. "Hey, um..."

"_Yeah?"_

"I'm sorry."

"_I told you before, it's not your fault,"_ Dean said, going from choked-up to angry in half a second. _"You read through all of Bobby's freakin' books! You searched for answers, dude. You did everything you could, and so did Bobby, and so did Sam. No one found the answer. No one knows how to end this. We can only go after the source, and that's what we're doing right now. So don't you dare think that any of this is your fault!"_

Reid couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. Dean was always so worried about him. And while he knew he couldn't really argue the point with Dean, he wished he could. If he hadn't already known what Dean would say, he might have tried. But he would just get a louder version of the lecture repeated to him. And he didn't want to waste this call with Dean being angry at him.

"_Hey man, don't you go off with this whole pity party. You didn't fail me, okay? No one could do anything for me except Lilith. You hear me, Spencer?"_

"Yeah, I hear you." His smile faltered, and then fell. "I just wish this hadn't happened, you know? I wish Sa—Brennan—was never taken, and that Jake was never there, and that you didn't have to do this!"

"_You know why I did though. I couldn't just let Sam die."_

He sighed, not wanting to go there. "I just... It's hard knowing what's coming, and just sitting here, waiting for the call."

"_Try being in the line of fire..."_ Dean sighed. _"It hasn't exactly been an easy year for me either."_

And suddenly he realized he had stopped worrying about how Dean was feeling. It was always too easy to just accept his words for truth and believe that he was okay. But now he remembered—Dean was always hiding behind his promises of being fine. He was _fine_ with everything. He was always _fine_.

"How could you do it?" Reid asked in wonder. "How could you know what was going to happen, and still do this for him?"

There was a pause. For a moment, he wasn't sure Dean would answer. Then there was a tiny sigh, before Dean quietly explained, "_He's my brother. It's my job to keep him alive and okay."_

For Dean it was really that simple. His brother needed him, so he did whatever was necessary.

"You guys are the closest I've ever had to brothers, okay? So I'm not giving up just yet," Reid declared. "I'll be working until the last minute. And before you tell me you're not worth it—shut up! If you weren't worth it, we wouldn't be here, okay? So don't you _dare_ tell me something so stupid! Or I'll drive over there and kill you myself!"

There were a few seconds of silence as Dean processed the sudden outburst.

"_Dude..."_ he said slowly in surprise. _"Is Spencer Reid growing a backbone?"_ There was a smile in Dean's voice now. _"Or did you just have way too much coffee this morning?"_

"I didn't have that much coffee," he lied.

"_How much, kiddo?"_

He grimaced, but admitted, "Maybe four cups."

"_Spencer!"_

"Reid!" Hotch echoed.

Reid turned and shot him an embarrassed look.

Hotch frowned, pointing at him. "When you get off the phone, you're going downstairs to eat the food Morgan's brought you. After that, you are getting some rest. I'll have Morgan drive you home."

Because Reid knew it would be pointless to argue, he nodded.

"_Spencer?"_ Dean growled in the phone. _"Are you still there?"_

He brought the phone back to his ear quickly. "Yeah, I'm still here. I was just talking to my boss."

"_Do you need to get back to work? I can let you go. Sammy's probably ready to get back on the road now."_

Reid knew a conversation closer when he heard one. He was disappointed it had come so quickly.

"Hey."

"_Yeah, kiddo?"_

"Be careful out there, tonight. I want to hear from you tomorrow. Don't let me down."

He chuckled quietly. _"I'll do my best, Spencer. Believe me. And you too—don't let me down. I want you to look after Sammy for me if..."_

Reid swallowed against an onslaught of tears. "I promise," he choked out. "I'll do everything I can to make sure he's all right."

Dean sounded like he was fighting his own tears when he spoke next, though Reid knew he would never admit it. _"Hey, Spencer? If this thing tonight doesn't go as planned and I..."_ He hesitated. _"If I kick the bucket, I want you to do me a favor, okay? Treat Sammy like your brother. You take care of him. He needs that."_

Reid covered his eyes with a trembling hand, unsuccessfully fighting the tears that were falling.

"_He needs someone there for him. Someone to check up on him, to make sure he's doing okay every now and then. Could you do that for me, little man?"_

It took him a moment, but he managed to find his voice. "Dean," he said, not even caring to correct himself in front of Hotch, "you guys have always been my brothers. That won't ever change. Not ever."

"_Thanks, man. I appreciate it."_ Dean cleared his throat. _"Listen...we have to hit the road again. The guys are waiting for me outside. I'd better go."_

Reid swallowed. "Thanks for calling me. I'm glad you did."

"_Well I had to do that, little man,"_ Dean said, his voice teasing, trying to cover up the emotion he had shown moments ago. _"Bobby threatened to throw me to Lilith if I didn't call you."_

Then the humor was gone, and his voice was serious. _"But I would have called you anyway. You know that, don't you? I had to check on you—to make sure you're gonna be okay—just like I have to make sure Sammy will be,"_ he said seriously. _"You're my little brother too, Spencer."_

"I know."

"_Good. I want you to take care of yourself, Spencer. And...look after your brother. You hear me?"_

"Yeah," Reid said, but his voice broke. "Yeah, I hear you."

"_Okay. Good. I've got to go now, Spencer. But thanks for everything, man. I don't think... Actually, I know I couldn't trust anyone else to take my place with Sammy."_

Reid couldn't fight the tears anymore, and he stopped trying to hide it in his voice. "I'll be the best brother I can be. I promise."

"_Bye, Spencer."_

"Bye, Dean..."

And as he said it, knowing this might be..._forever_...it didn't even seem to matter that he called Dean by his first name (_again_) in front of Hotch. He was saying goodbye to his _brother_—he needed to use his real name.

There was a pause—weighted silence—as both men fell lost to the heavy moment. Then, abruptly, the line went dead and a dial tone cut through the silence.

Reid closed the phone with shaking hands.

* * *

**AN:** *sniffs a little* So sad... But I'm sticking to cannon as much as possible, so Dean has to die. Besides, that's the whole premise of this story anyway.

Is it wrong of me to hope that one of you guys out there may have shed a tear at this...? lol I feel mean. But really, I'm just hoping hoping _hoping_ that I wrote that scene well enough to touch someone!

It's gonna stay sad for a few chapters guys, but don't worry, I will not end this fic without finding our happy ending! *goes off in search of restrooms to wipe my teary eyes*


	10. The Day Passed

**Author's Note:** You guys totally rocked my world with the reviews on the previous chapter! I almost didn't want to update because I wanted to keep hearing awesome things about chapter 9... lol *hugs all of you* Sorry I had to put y'all through that. But it was necessary!

And just to remove a little worry from y'all guys: I PROMISE this story will have a happy ending! Promise. :) Just bear with me. This story is showing Reid's reaction to Dean's deal from the days leading up to it being made, all the way through several days after he comes back. It'll be sad for a bit, but we're gonna be okay!

And seriously, ever since I started this 'verse, I have been waiting for an excuse to write Reid's first meeting with Cas, but I just don't know _how_ to do it yet! Haha! I'm super excited about them meeting and having some deep discussion after Reid gets over his serious fangirl-moment. I just haven't figured out how they're going to meet yet. Lol I _may_ try and get them to meet at the end of this fic though...if I can work it out. Maybe I'll add a few chapters at the end of the story...? *tapps chin thoughtfully* What do y'all think?

Oh! Also, guess what? The doctor said my rib isn't broken! But it's definitely in the wrong place, so I'm kinda hoping he was right... *nervous laugh* Anyway, I now have Vicodin so who cares! haha I'm feeling a lot better, so I can finally update again! Woot!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Criminal Minds or Supernatural. I only own Steve Barlow.

* * *

Reid didn't understand any of the words Hotch said to him. But when his boss finished talking and took his hand off of Reid's shoulder, the younger man nodded his head slowly, faking comprehension. Then he left.

He found the way to his desk on automatic. Sat down without hearing Morgan. Opened the bag of food and ate whatever was inside without processing what it was or how it tasted.

Some twenty-odd later, he finally came to. He looked up from his desk when he noticed someone standing beside him. It was Morgan. The agent sat down on the edge of Reid's desk, his face grim.

"Hey, man. What's going on?"

"A friend of mine's going to die tonight," Reid said softly before even realizing what he was admitting.

"How do you know?"

"Surgery," Reid lied, barely hesitating. "It's completely experimental. The doctors say he only has a ten percent chance of living, but they have to try."

Reid suspected that Dean's chances of survival were smaller than that, but he knew they still had to try to beat Lilith. They had to try _something_.

Morgan rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Reid."

The words did nothing to help, but he nodded anyway.

Morgan cracked a slight smile then, almost teasingly. "I gotta admit, Reid, I wasn't so sure you had many friends outside of the BAU. You don't talk about other people so much."

Again, Reid only nodded.

Morgan dropped the smile when Reid remained serious. "Are you close to this guy? You know him well?"

Reid tried to shrug casually, but his eyes betrayed him, filling with tears almost without warning. "He calls me his brother." Then he had to cover his mouth with a hand. He pushed his chair back and stood up quickly. "I need a minute," he gasped out, already hurrying away from Morgan.

He stopped after only five steps though, catching sight of Steve Barlow. The older agent was standing across the room, watching him with knowing eyes. He began to cross the room, and Reid moved to intercept him in the middle of the office cubicles.

Usually, Spencer Reid was not a hugging man. But today was no usual day. Barlow fortunately reacted as if it were normal for the young agent to throw his arms around him. He just hugged Reid back tightly, mumbling comforting nothings as he waited for the young man to calm down a little.

The BAU team congregated quickly, standing several feet behind Reid, but he didn't notice. Barlow met their eyes, greeting them silently and somewhat awkwardly. But Reid didn't realize they were even behind him until he was backing away a minute later, apologizing to the older agent.

"Sorry," he mumbled, having gotten control of himself again. "It's just a really rough day." He wiped at his eyes embarrassedly.

Barlow patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay. He called. Asked me to check on you."

Reid tucked his hair behind his ear, not even sure how to begin.

Barlow motioned behind him. "Why don't you introduce me to your coworkers. Then we can find somewhere to talk for a minute."

Reid spun quickly, surprised to see everyone standing together and watching them. He quickly wiped at his eyes unsuccessfully. "Guys. What's going on?"

Hotch spoke for everyone. "We were just coming to check on you. Who's this?"

Barlow stepped forward. "Agent Steve Barlow. I assume you are all part of Reid's team?"

Hotch nodded stiffly. "Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. These are agents David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, and Emily Prentiss." He glanced between Reid and Barlow. "I take it you're a friend of Agent Reid's?"

Barlow looked to the younger man to let him answer. Reid caught his cue, and spoke up. "Yes, we've known each other for a while. He works with the SSIA sometimes."(**)

When nothing more came, Hotch took over again. "Okay. Reid, I'm having Morgan drive you home. You need rest. It was good to meet you, Agent Barlow."

Barlow didn't reply. "Reid, you're going home to sleep?"

When the younger man shrugged innocently, Barlow fixed a glare on him. "Don't you try and lie to me, kid. If you go home, you're not getting any sleep. You probably won't eat for the next three days either." He shook his head. "Get back to your desk. I'll bring some of my paperwork up, and sit with you for a while."

Hotch took a step forward, almost territorially. "Dr. Reid is a member of _my_ team. And he needs sleep. I'm sending him home."

The two men stared at each other, sizing one another up.

Reid had to break in. "Guys? I...I'll stay. He's right, I wouldn't sleep at home anyway."

"You need rest," Hotch objected.

"My house is...quiet. I'd rather be here." Reid couldn't hide the displeasure in his voice at the thought of going home, but he didn't really try. He knew that he didn't want to be shut up in his empty house all day, waiting. He would rather try to work here, or at least pretend to work, and wait for the call from Bobby. Plus, if Barlow would sit with him, maybe he could calm down enough to concentrate on work a little today.

Hotch studied him for a few seconds, then nodded, not looking happy. "If you're sure."

* * *

Barlow was back quickly, and he pulled up an extra chair to Reid's desk after hefting a pile of papers and folders onto one corner. He quirked a smile in the younger man's direction. "Hope my mess doesn't ruin all of your organization."

It was a running joke that Barlow's desk was more chaotic than even JJ's office. And though Reid was by no means OCD about his desk being organized, he did have a very clear system (to _him_, anyway) and he tended to get annoyed when coworkers moved his files.

Reid was too tired to do more than crack a smile at Barlow though. He scooted his chair over wordlessly, and shifted a pile of files closer to him.

Morgan stopped at the desk in passing, trying again to check up on Reid. "Hey. You okay here? Do you want anything else to eat?"

"I'm okay."

Barlow handed him a bagel, seemingly pulling it out from nowhere. "Eat."

Both of the younger men stared at him, but he only pushed the bagel at Reid. "Eat it or I'm calling Bobby."

"Bobby?" Morgan asked.

Barlow began explaining, "He's the kid's—"

But Reid cut him off. "He's a friend."

They looked at each other. Then Barlow nodded once and shoved the bagel at his young charge. Reid took it this time, so the older man was able to turn back to his paperwork. Morgan left them alone, not knowing what else to do.

The two men worked in silence for a time. Then Reid caught sight of what Barlow was writing, and he couldn't help but read it. It was the first draft of paperwork for a case he had closed recently.

"Is that from the Michigan hunt last month?"

"Yeah. I took care of it, but now I've got to explain it for the boss," Barlow explained wryly.

Reid had to smile at his tone. "Then I'd suggest you don't say it was a nail-gun that he used. Say it was...a skewer. It fits better with the image of the lone camper killing people who got too close to his camping grounds."

"Thanks. I hadn't thought of that."

The case had actually been a hunt, though the Feds would never know it wasn't a normal case. What Barlow's boss and partner thought had been a man had in fact been a ghost terrorizing some camping grounds.

"Also, you should probably say that he tripped and ended up falling into the campfire. The Director should accept that, but he will probably still question your partner."

Barlow nodded at that, already making the changes. "Rob doesn't know what to think, really, since he was so disoriented after being attacked, but I've told him my version of the story so many times I don't think we'll have a problem."

Reid turned back to his own files then, and they worked together in quiet companionship, commenting to each other on different cases and alluding to hunts.

Barlow spent the rest of the workday at Reid's desk. Whenever the younger man was overwhelmed with thoughts of Dean and the deal, Barlow did his best to calm him. He also refused to let his young friend obsess too much, scouring the Internet for answers. They both knew it was a futile search, but it was up to Barlow to keep Reid moving on his paid work. He pushed paperwork and files at the younger man whenever he had been on the computer for more than ten or fifteen minutes.

Slowly the day passed, and evening fell.

* * *

"You're coming home to eat dinner with me and Margaret," Barlow said.

Reid looked up from the computer, fingers pausing on the keys. "What?"

"We're going to eat at the house. Margie already knows to expect you. She said dinner will be ready in half an hour."

Reid swallowed, not sure that anything he ate right then wouldn't taste like sawdust. And all he could think was that he wasn't ready for this. Leaving the office—leaving the computer—it meant giving up. He couldn't give up on Dean!

Barlow understood his indecision. "Come on, kid. There's nothing left to do here."

"But what if—"

"Spencer." The older man sighed. "I know, okay? I know. But you've done all you can do. You've been searching for a whole year. You've called in every favor you could, even borrowed a few of mine, and no one's had answers. We've done all we can, kiddo."

Reid knew he was right. But, somehow, it felt like betrayal to close the Google page and shut down his computer.

* * *

**AN:** (**) If you haven't read my other fics (particularly "Reid Met The President But It Was Shawn's Fault!") then just know that the President of the U.S. set up a secret government group to monitor hunters and different hunting cases all over the country. Reid is the official liaison between the FBI and the SSIA.

Sorry this was a bit of a boring chapter, but I kind of like Steve Barlow. (Biased? Maybe...!) Plus I think Reid needs someone who understands right now. Sit tight. The next chapter will be light on the action too. Things may slow down a bit for a few chapters actually, but don't worry. We're heading in the right direction. :)


	11. Extended Family

**Author's Note:** This is a short chapter, guys. Sorry. *shrug* We're still chugging along though.

Here's a little back-story on Reid's history with the Barlows.

**Disclaimer:** I only own Margaret and Steve Barlow! Hopefully they're okay OC's...? (Hint hint, lemme know!)

* * *

Margaret "Margie" Barlow insisted to her husband that he bring Spencer home for dinner that evening. It would be a quiet affair, Margaret knowing all too well about Dean Winchester's predicament. Though she wasn't a hunter herself, her husband had long since given up trying to shield her from the world of supernatural dangers and told her everything. Of course, it helped that they had gotten engaged while he was on a hunt. After he came swooping in to save her from decapitation by a ghost, she couldn't help but believe him when he explained the work he did on the side.

Not only did she know quite a bit about the supernatural now though, but she also knew several hunters. The Barlows occasionally opened up their home as a safe house for hunters in need, though usually only for people that Bobby sent to them. The Winchesters had stayed with them a few times, and Margie liked the boys—mostly because they were good friends of Spencer Reid's.

Margie, from the first time she had met the young Spencer, before he even had his doctorates, had loved the boy. There was something about him that just woke her mothering instincts. She always wanted to take care of him. She and her husband had never had children, so she supposed she was fortunate that she had a stand-in boy to take care of.

She had been worrying about Spencer for the better part of a year, ever since she realized how hard Dean's deal was going to affect him. She knew this night would be a bad one even before she saw him enter the house with dark shadows under his eyes and a complexion more pale than usual. But she hugged him as she always did and set about getting the table ready for dinner.

Conversation was somewhat lacking that night, unlike the usual dinners Spencer shared with the Barlows. But no one minded. They all had the same things in mind, and there really was nothing left to be said on that subject.

As she often did, Margie offered to let Spencer stay in the guest room that night. He usually didn't agree, but tonight he knew he didn't want to be alone in his house.

He stayed up late with Steve, though he was exhausted, and Margaret went to toss and turn in her bed as she pretended to sleep. She was still wide awake at midnight, and she heard the men's conversation clearly through the open doorway.

"When do you think Bobby will call?" Spencer asked quietly. She could hear the anxiety in his tone.

"I don't know, kid."

Margie knew her husband was just as worried as she was for their young friend. He had come into their lives several years ago, meeting Steve while he was spending a summer with Bobby Singer. She had met him some time later, during her one and only trip to meet Bobby. Then, a few years and degrees later, Spencer had begun working at Quantico, and Steve had been asked to look after him.

Steve was never one to do anything by halves, but he went further than Bobby had probably ever planned. Spencer became almost a part of their family. And by relation, Bobby became a good friend too, though Margaret rarely saw him in person.

"What if he doesn't call?" Spencer asked suddenly.

"He'll call."

"What if he can't?"

"He's not going to forget you. Not when he knows you need to hear from him."

"It should be over by now. It's after midnight."

"He'll call," was Steve's firm answer.

Spencer was quiet after that, finally deciding to trust him. But Bobby didn't call.

Around two a.m. the boys decided to call it a night. Spencer was barely holding his head up, and Steve was exhausted. Footsteps travelled upstairs to the guest room. Then Steve finally came to bed. He held Margaret as she cried for their young friend, both of them already knowing that Bobby's lack of phone call was not a good sign. Margie only prayed that they would be able to help Spencer through whatever tomorrow's news would bring.

* * *

Steve Barlow let Reid sleep as long as he could, knowing the boy needed it. He wouldn't be able to check JJ's desk for supernatural cases, but today that hardly mattered in Steve's mind. The kid deserved more than two broken hours of sleep. Steve knew he should have tried to get Reid to sleep earlier last night, but he also realized he'd only barely gotten the young man upstairs at all, even as tired as they had both been at two a.m.

He waited until 6:25 to wake Reid, giving him just enough time to choke down two of Margie's pancakes before they had to leave for the office.

Steve separated with Reid when they arrived at the office, though he couldn't help but worry about the kid as he stepped out of the elevator. He knew Bobby's call could come at any minute. He had been surprised when the hunter didn't call Reid right after midnight, but he knew there was probably enough to do that Bobby hadn't had time.

If Bobby was still alive—and Steve didn't dare to think he was anything but alive—he would call soon. Now that it was daylight, and Bobby wouldn't have to worry about waking Reid up, he would call.

* * *

**AN:** Short, but a tiny glimpse into the life of Reid that none of his team members knows about.


	12. No More Waiting

**Author's Note:** Here we go. Reid gets the word from Bobby.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

Reid went straight to his desk when he arrived at his floor. His phone showed no missed calls. He had tried not to expect any; Bobby always called his cell phone. But he had hoped a little bit that the lack of calls to his cell might mean Bobby was trying at the office.

No such luck.

"Hey man, how are you feelin' today?" Morgan asked, stopping by his desk.

Reid knew he couldn't hide the shadows under his eyes, so he didn't try. "Not great," he replied honestly.

"You don't look so good. Is it your friend?"

"I'm still waiting for the call."

Reid jumped when Morgan's cell phone began ringing. Morgan answered the call, all the while casting Reid a worried look. He headed back to his desk to get some information for the caller, but he paused long enough to squeeze Reid's shoulder supportively.

Reid appreciated it, but the gesture did little to ease his anxiety.

For the next three and a half hours, Reid jumped every time a phone rang. He nearly had a panic attack when his own phone went off the first time. (It was only a fellow agent calling about a detail of the last case the BAU had worked on.) The morning passed by in a dreadful haze as Reid waited, and waited, and waited.

Around 10:30, Barlow came upstairs to check on him. He tapped his knuckles on Reid's desk to catch his attention. "Hey, kid. How's it going?"

Reid set down his pen and closed the case-file he was working on. "I've been better."

The older man huffed a slight laugh at that. "I know what you mean. What are you working on?"

Grateful, Reid grasped at the distraction. "Just finishing up some notes on the last case we worked. I've only got a paragraph to add before I'll be done. Then I'm supposed to go see Hotch about today's workload."

Barlow nodded distractedly, watching something across the room.

Reid looked over, but he saw nothing other than the elevators and the large clock that was visible on the edge of the room. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Nah, nothing like that. Just having a hard time concentrating today." He gave Reid a halfhearted smile.

The younger agent shook his head to himself. "I don't know how much longer I can wait if—"

He had no time to finish the sentence though, because his cell phone rang. He grabbed it off his desk as quickly as he could, almost forgetting to breathe when he saw that the Caller ID flashing Bobby's name on the screen.

"Bobby?" he asked into the phone, his voice sounding breathless and almost strangled—strange to his own ears.

"_Hey, Spencer. Sorry I called so late. We had a lot of clean-up to take care of. Only got, well, we just..."_ Bobby cleared his throat, running out of words.

"Bobby? Just tell me. Did you guys...?" But he already knew the answer. It would have been the first words out of Bobby's mouth if they had saved Dean.

"_No. We didn't. I'm sorry, Spencer. He's gone."_

Reid's eyes slid shut as he tried to remember how to breathe. This couldn't be happening.

"_Sam wouldn't let me burn the body. So we buried him in a forest a few miles outside of town. Now Sam's following me in...in the Impala."_ It took a moment for Bobby to continue, but he rallied himself and sounded almost normal when he spoke again._ "We're heading to my place for a while. I'm gonna see how long I can get Sam to stay."_

Reid didn't even know what to say. He was trying to picture the grave, already knowing it would likely be a barely-marked spot. Dean Winchester was a hero laid to rest in an unmarked grave somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Few would ever know of the world's loss of a savior. Fewer would mourn that loss...

"_Spencer?"_

He had to swallow before he dared to answer. "Y-yeah, Bobby. I'm still here."

"_I think it'd be nice if you called Sam a little later. It would probably do him some good."_

A tear slipped down Reid's face at the thought.

"_He's feeling guilty as hell, kid, and he needs someone to remind him that this isn't his fault."_

Reid swallowed against the tears, trying to steady his voice before he said anything. "Okay, Bobby. Sure. I'll, uh, I'll call him later."

"_Good. I think that's what..."_ He coughed quietly, unable to say it, but Reid still heard the unspoken words: _That's what Dean would have wanted..._

Reid nodded. "Okay," he whispered.

He had promised Dean he would be a brother to Sam. In the Winchester family, brothers took care of each other. Spencer Reid was going to do everything he could to take care of Sam.

"_I'm uh, I've gotta go, Spencer. But you call us tonight, okay?"_

"Sure, Bobby. Thanks for calling me."

"_Spencer? You did everything you could. Okay? We all did. There was just nothing we could do. It was out of our hands."_

Reid felt his control break at those words. He pressed the button to hang up on Bobby, then dropped his face into his hands.

A hand rested on his shoulder, reminding him that Barlow was still standing there. The watching of the clock suddenly made sense. The random trip upstairs to see Reid.

"You knew," he accused Barlow. "You knew it had gone badly."

"Bobby called me a minute ago. Told me to get my butt upstairs so you wouldn't have to take the call alone."

Reid didn't know what to say. He felt Barlow pat him on the shoulder again.

"Finish up your report. I'm gonna go tell your boss you'll be out of town for a few days."

Reid looked up. "Where are we going?"

"South Dakota."

"But if...I mean..."

Barlow shook his head. "You need to see Sam and Bobby. We're leaving the office in fifteen minutes. I've already cleared it with my boss. Tie up your loose ends so we can go."

* * *

**AN:** You know, I never actually wrote a chapter where Reid gets to see Sam and Bobby in person. But after editing this chapter, I decided I had to. :( As soon as I finish it and manage to read it through once or twice, I'll get it up and keep on running with this story. Wish me luck!


	13. Numb

**Author's Note:** Baha! *throws hands in the air* \0/ Hold on guys, we're almost there! This chapter started to run away from me, so I'm having to free-write one more. Enjoy. :)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to Supernatural or Criminal Minds. But do you know how much I wish I did...!

* * *

Spencer had been in a daze ever since Bobby called him to give the news. He had been seeing everything as if from a distance. (_Morgan's sympathetic eyes when Hotch came to explain that Reid was taking some days off...)_ But he hadn't been sleepy, just exhausted. Almost too tired to rest. (_Every muscle in his body ached. Burned.)_ The team hadn't pressed him as he left the bullpen with Barlow. (_Hotch squeezed his shoulder as he passed...)_ Garcia's words were lost in the way that Reid couldn't seem to concentrate on anything around him. _(Pain, friends, sorrow...mourning.)_ Spencer followed Barlow on auto-pilot.

Barlow already had a bag packed for him and ready to go. They drove straight to the airport. Reid stood silently in line behind the older agent. He moved when the other man moved, laid his bag down when they reached the right area, held on to the ticket that he was given.

Barlow didn't comment if the ticket shook in a pair of unsteady hands.

* * *

Reid didn't expect to sleep for the next several days. Perhaps that's why it caught him so off-guard.

Reid wasn't sure where he began to feel sleepy. It was all a daze until he was on the plane. Then, somewhere between Virginia and South Dakota, he drifted off to the lull of the plane's engines.

He dreamed of blood and screaming. Fear.

He woke to someone gripping his arms tightly. Barlow was leaning over him with steadying eyes. He didn't bother to say anything though. And Spencer was grateful for that. As soon as his breathing had calmed enough for the older man to let him go, he turned to stare out the window, the dream replaying snapshots before fading away slowly.

The daze settled over him again. Blanketing him. Allowing him to ignore it all—past, present, future. He just...existed. Numbly, he existed.

* * *

Barlow let most of the plane empty up before reaching up to get the overhead bags and tugging on Reid's sleeve. It was that tug that reminded Reid that he was still wearing his suit from that morning. Actually, it was the same suit as the previous day even. He usually kept an extra at the Barlow's house, but he had needed it the previous week and forgot to replace it.

He knew without a doubt, he would never wear this suit again.

This suit meant mourning to him. It meant waiting for news of a death in his family. It meant he was throwing this thing away as soon as he had time to change.

Reid grimaced as he stood and took his bag from Barlow. They didn't say a word as the older man guided him out of the plane, to the baggage claim, and then into a rental car.

The drive to Bobby's house seemed to take less time than usual. But that may have been because Reid tuned out most of it. He watched absently as the scenery passed by his window, not really noting anything they passed.

In the car, Barlow tried to get him to talk. "Spencer, are you okay? You haven't said a word since we left..."

He pretended not to hear it.

And the older man didn't press the subject.

Before long, they had arrived. Barlow drove them through the familiar arch over the front entrance, and they wound their way through the salvage yard to stop in front of Bobby's house. Bobby was sitting on the steps of the front porch, fiddling with some car part in his lap, when they arrived. He set down the greasy part on the porch and opened the front door just long enough to lean inside for a moment. Reid assumed he was calling Sam.

Reid shuddered at the thought of facing him.

Barlow rested a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"

He didn't trust his voice to answer, so he simply shook his head. Barlow squeezed his neck in reply, knowing what he meant without having to ask.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Spencer. You hear me? Nothing. You did everything you could."

He didn't have the energy to argue, but couldn't bring himself to pretend like he believed the man. So he reached for the door handle instead. He met Bobby a few steps from the front porch, and his uncle pulled him into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, kid," Bobby said, his voice a little strained and rough.

Reid patted him on the back. "Me too." They were the first words he had spoken since he had left Quantico that morning.

The front screen door squeaked as Sam came outside. Reid felt Bobby tense a little, but didn't try to interpret it, because he was too distracted with seeing Sam. He looked awful. His face was pale, and his eyes were red, whether from crying or from lack of sleep, Reid couldn't say. His clothes had obviously been slept in. And there was something about his posture; he looked so defeated.

It usually didn't seem to matter—or even _occur_—to Reid that Sam was younger than him by two years. They had both lived such full lives, and they had both seen so much in their lives, sometimes it was hard to remember how old Sam really was. But at that moment, it almost knocked Spencer's knees out from under him when he remembered Sam was younger than him. He was overtaken by the urge to wrap Sam up in his arms, (even though the young man seemed to be a foot taller than him,) and just protect him from the world. The stupid, cruel, cruel world.

Sam didn't deserve this. He had only just reached his twenty-fourth year. And he had already lost his father two years ago. His girlfriend the year before that.

Would their pain never end?

Bobby let go of Spencer, and then he was left to face Sam as the younger man slowly came down the porch steps. Reid went to meet him. They moved at the same time to pull each other into a crushing hug. Spencer couldn't have said who was trying to give whom comfort.

"It's gonna be okay," Sam told him quietly after a moment, trying to convince himself almost as much as he was trying to convince Reid.

"Yeah," he replied just as quietly.

Neither of them believed it.

* * *

**AN:** This is terrible. The first time in my 'verse that I've written some actual face-to-face interaction with Reid, Sam, and Bobby, and Dean's _dead_! *sigh*

I'll have to write an epilogue now and add it to the story, so Reid can see Dean in person...


	14. Snapshots: Sam

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the seemingly never-ending depression. But like I stated in the summary of this story, this is showing how Reid would take Dean's deal and death. So it's tragic and heartbreaking, but it's showing him in one of his lowest times. :( These chapters will show you snapshots of how each character is dealing with this, through the eyes of Spencer. Good news though, we've only got one more sad chapter left, and then Dean's four months are going to be told in a single go!

Then Dean will be back!

As an apology for the huge wait, I'm posting the next chapters all together. Originally the next four chapters were supposed to be posted as one, but they grew to be way too big for that. So here we are, the first installment of a four-part addition to the story. :)

**Huge Apology:** I'm really sorry, guys, for not updating faster. This chapter hit some major road-bumps along the way. It's been a rough few weeks... My job this summer has been crazy. I nanny a 7yr old and believe me, when I get home from work I am exhausted.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but Barlow. If I owned any right to even _set eyes on_ Matthew Gray Gubler right now, I would hug that man so tightly he would never forget me! (*pats his teary-eyed little woobie face*) Of course, Jensen Ackles would require similar actions... ;) *growl*

"Snapshots Of Mourning: Sam"

* * *

**SAM:**

Sam didn't want to stay. Spencer saw it and he knew it even within the first ten minutes of hugging the younger man. It was visible, that _itch_ to get out. The impossible-to-ignore urge to get in the car, put it in drive, and slam a foot down on the pedal and never let up until you run out of road or gas or both and you can't go any further...

Spencer noticed the urge to flee in the way that Sam squared his shoulders just before stepping through the threshold of Bobby's house. (Only a slight twitch, barely noticeable, but Spencer made a living of watching how people twitch, and it was a skill he couldn't turn off.)

It was in the lightning-fast look that Sam sent towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms upstairs, as if by habit Sam was glancing toward where Dean would be if he were just sleeping instead of... (And Spencer had to swallow back the urge to throw up when Sam paled after that.)

It was in the way that, later as they are talking, Sam stiffened when the house shifted in the warming weather and it almost sounded like someone moving in the hallway upstairs.

It was in the way that Sam's hands never quite seemed to still. He plucked at the hem of his shirt. He rubbed the outer seam of his jeans absently with a thumbnail. He fiddled with a loose string hanging from his collar.

Spencer immediately recognized the fact that Bobby and Sam didn't speak. Bobby directed all questions to Spencer or Barlow as the four of them take seats in the living room. Spencer couldn't help but dissect every worried glance that Bobby sent the youngest hunter in the room, but Sam didn't return a single one. He didn't so much as look at Bobby once to acknowledge his presence in the room.

It was a slightly tense hour of discussion in the living room. Then a miserable dinner, as each of the men were unable to distract themselves from the silence that filled the room as they ate. Bobby pulled Barlow away to the library in the back room to discuss some new discovery he had found regarding a Middle Eastern mythological figure. Spencer was left with Sam.

They didn't say much. Spencer tried, but he knew Sam didn't want to talk yet. He couldn't. So they sat in silence on the couch, staring out the window, together. Spencer didn't really feel like talking anyway.

It was the best forty-five minutes Spencer had spent in Bobby's house that day. He used it to process.

Eventually Spencer got up to see what the older men were up to. He leaned around the doorframe to see the two hunters sharing a bottle of Scotch and decided not to interrupt. Then he quietly told Sam goodnight and headed upstairs to the guest bedroom.

As he tread up the stairs, Spencer considered all of the tells he had seen from both Sam and Bobby. And that was when Spencer suddenly realized that Sam would leave Bobby's place immediately if he could. He wasn't even sure of why the younger man had stayed that day.

* * *

After tossing and turning in a bed that smelled impossibly too much like Dean, Spencer threw back the covers in frustration and padded barefoot down the stairs towards the kitchen.

It was almost embarrassing that he didn't realize Sam was in the kitchen until he was almost on top of the younger man. (Except that hunters are trained to be as silent as possible.) Spencer jumped a little, but didn't make much audible noise to show his surprise. (He had a little training from hunters over the years too, after all.)

Sam was standing with his back to Spencer. He had propped his hip against the kitchen counter, staring out the window at the back of the property, where the Impala was parked not far from the house. For a moment, Spencer thought he hadn't been noticed. But then Sam glanced over his shoulder with a slight twist of amusement in his lips from having realized how startled Spencer was a moment ago. And Spencer couldn't help but smile tentatively back at him.

Sam turned back to face the window without saying anything. He went back to watching the Impala with an unusual tenseness in his posture. He didn't look like Spencer would expect. He looked frustrated.

Spencer glanced outside, wondering why for a brief moment. But then he caught the idle motion of Sam's hand touching his pocket. And that was when he realized that Sam had been carrying Dean's keys around in his pocket all day. He understood then that Sam wasn't ready yet.

He wasn't ready to sit down in the driver's seat and pretend that it was okay for him to drive the Impala. But Spencer also knew he wouldn't leave it and drive away in some awful clunker that Bobby would never really miss. Bobby was probably the only person in the world who could treat the Impala with the respect it deserved, but that didn't matter. The Impala was family. It was Sam's last link to Dean. He wouldn't leave that behind, not even when he wanted to run so badly that it drove him to fidget in every quiet moment.

Spencer swallowed. "You're leaving," he announced in the silence. He knew it already, had been slowly reading the clues all day, but he wanted the confirmation now. He was finally ready to push Sam to talk.

Sam was still staring at the Impala as if hoping it would give him the strength to pull the keys out from his pocket.

"Take me with you?" Spencer asked quietly. It surprised him that he asked. It also surprised him to realize how much he had asked for his own sake as he well as for Sam's. The younger man needed someone to stay with him. He needed help. He needed a brother. But now Spencer saw, perhaps he needed that too.

Sam turned to give him a sad smile, _knowing _and_ understanding_ in ways that few people will ever know and understand Spencer.

"I can't do that." His tone was apologetic, but final. Spencer knew not to argue. Not to push.

He nodded, because it was decided.

Sam continued though, no longer facing him. "We both have a job to get back to. Your team needs you."

"You're going back out there?" he asked cautiously.

Sam purposefully misunderstood him. "It's all I know. I'm a hunter."

Spencer decided he didn't really want confirmation that Sam was going to chase after Lilith. He didn't chase that train of questioning. He swallowed instead. "When are you leaving?"

Sam shrugged as if he hadn't thought it through a million times. "Whenever you and Barlow head out, I'll pack up and get back to things."

Spencer nodded, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. "Give me a few days. I just..." It was rare for him to be without words. It made him feel a little more desperate. "I need to know that you're alive and okay. For a few days, I just, I need to know you're here."

Sam turned around, and for a split second, the light of the back porch shone off the wetness in his eyes. He stared at Spencer for what felt like an eternity before finally crossing the few feet between them and wrapping Spencer in a tight hug.

"I'll be here until you have to leave." Sam's voice was low and rough in his ear. Gentle and reassuring. "That's all I can give right now, but I'll be here 'til then."

Spencer's face was buried in Sam's shoulder, and he was not so sure that Sam wasn't keeping him on his feet, holding him up with the embrace. For a long moment they stayed like that, Sam holding him together, and Spencer just savoring the knowledge that Sam was there, in one piece. Safe.

Eventually, Spencer took a step back and allowed Sam to let him go. Then he turned to head back to bed, feeling once again brave enough to attempt sleep. He knew Sam would be there in the morning.

In the doorway he paused though, and turned back. "Sam?"

The younger man looked up.

"I'm sorry we didn't celebrate your birthday."

Sam did that thing with his face where he managed to smile yet look completely heartbroken at the same time. It made Spencer's gut clench up painfully.

"I never planned to," Sam admitted quietly. "I don't feel much like celebrating right now. And if..." He shrugged. "Well, then we would have been too busy celebrating something else instead."

Spencer nodded, because he knew. But knowing didn't make it not hurt. Instead of getting gifts and cake on his birthday, Sam lost Dean.

"Will you promise me something?" he asked.

"If I can."

"Let me call you. It doesn't matter if all you say is hello. Just let me talk to you for a few minutes every day so I can know you're okay." He would do anything to make sure this happened.

Sam hesitated for a moment, and Spencer felt his heart drop. But then, Sam quietly promised, "If you call, I'll pick up."

Spencer smiled, but his eyes were serious. "Every day," he said.

Sam only nodded.

It didn't even occur to him until months later that Sam agreed because he thought it was what Spencer needed. By the time he realized though, Spencer had also figured out that he probably needed the connection just as much as Sam had.

Spencer quietly made his way out of the kitchen, not even noticing that he had come downstairs for a snack but hadn't gotten one. He barely even noticed the light that was still glowing under the bottom of the door to Bobby's library and office. When he reached the bedroom upstairs, he paused by the window before returning to bed. Sam had made it as far as standing by the Impala. If Spencer hadn't known Sam and Dean as well as he had, he would feel like an intruder watching as Sam reverently brushed his fingertips along the hood of the car that had served as his home for most of his life.

Then Sam eased himself down to sit on the hood, and Spencer saw his mouth moving, as if he was speaking to someone. Or someone's memory, as it would be. Spencer couldn't stand to intrude any longer. He turned and moved past the nearer bed—Sam's bed—and went to the one closer to the doorway.

Whenever the three of them stayed with Bobby, there would be an extra cot added against the other wall. Spencer had always taken it, though he probably had more right to the room than either of the other boys, since he was actually related to Bobby. But when he was kid, it had felt more like he was one of the hosts, because of that relation. He had always let Sam and Dean have the real beds.

Bobby hadn't bothered to heft the cot out of the closet and into the room that morning. Spencer had to remind himself that they didn't need it. The cot was unnecessary. Still, it felt wrong to lie down in _Dean's_ bed.

For a moment, Spencer's heart clenched, and he felt sure that he wouldn't ever be able to sleep in this bed. He almost considered going downstairs to the couch. But Sam would notice it and _know_. And Bobby would worry about him in the morning when he woke and found him; Bobby didn't need anyone else to worry about.

It was just a stupid bed; it shouldn't matter. But it did.

Spencer didn't fall asleep for a long time that night. He wondered if, forty-eight hours before, Dean had as much trouble sleeping in this bed the night before he went to face Lilith.


	15. Snapshots: Bobby

"Snapshots Of Mourning: Bobby"

**BOBBY:**

Bobby kept disappearing into his back room, the library/office. He was back there whenever he wasn't cleaning something—scrubbing a window here, scraping back paint on a wall there to check on a sigil hidden underneath, removing and replacing charms throughout the house. He even tried to organize his hundreds of books—which were already alphabetized, categorized by subject, and ordered by most used to least. The man would not stop cleaning.

Spencer couldn't figure him out. He had never once seen his uncle act like this.

He hadn't noticed it the first day at Bobby's house. But he had been too distracted by Sam to really think about much else. His second day in Sioux Falls was devoted to watching his uncle. He let Sam have a little space, because the younger man still didn't seem ready to talk yet. Last night's conversation was the longest string of sentences Spencer had heard from him so far.

When Bobby started in on reorganizing his hordes of books, Spencer offered to help. He knew almost all of them anyway, since he made it a habit to swing by once a year and read any new volumes that Bobby had picked up. It kept him prepared for his mornings in JJ's office, sifting through her files for anything dealing with the supernatural. He had to be able to recognize the signs of any sort of supernatural occurrence if he wanted to catch every case that came to JJ.

"I might as well see what new books you've gotten this year," Spencer added with a look to the shelf Bobby was emptying.

Bobby grunted in a sort of disinterested way, but Spencer knew not to take it to heart. His uncle was just floundering a little bit, unsure of what to do with himself.

The uncle and nephew pair started working their way through the library of books. Spencer didn't have to ask how to organize the volumes, because he had been digging through those shelves since he was a kid. He had long ago discovered why werewolf accounts were ranked as "read more often" than vampire lore.

They worked together for half an hour before Spencer noticed that Bobby was eyeing his desk whenever he thought the younger man wasn't paying attention. Spencer subtly looked at the desk, trying to figure out what his uncle was staring at, but couldn't figure it out. He wanted to ask, but didn't dare. There was something distinctly _off_ about his uncle.

"There's something I've got to check on in the yard," Bobby said suddenly, and turned to leave the room without waiting for Spencer's reply. Almost without waiting to put down the small stack of Japanese mythology in his hands.

Spencer let him go, and kept working as the footsteps faded down the hallway. Fifteen minutes later, the footsteps were headed back.

"Everything okay?" he called over his shoulder.

"I was actually coming to ask you that," Barlow replied, coming into the room.

Spencer turned in surprise. "Sorry. I thought you were Bobby."

"Hasn't he been with you?" Barlow asked.

"He went out to the yard a few minutes ago to check on something."

"On what?"

Spencer shrugged. "He didn't say."

Barlow glanced at his watch, then at Spencer for a moment. He frowned before crossing the room and opening the top drawer on the left. Spencer couldn't see the contents of the drawer thanks to a stack of six books on Icelandic culture and a large volume for translating Urdu. Whatever Barlow was looking for, Spencer couldn't tell if he found it. Barlow closed the desk drawer with a snap and stalked out of the room.

If Spencer didn't know any better, he would have guessed his uncle was about to be in trouble.

He kept working on the shelves of books though, because that was what Bobby needed him to do. It wasn't long before Bobby was coming back into the library. Bobby's eyes were a little red, and his hands shook in slight tremors if you looked closely. But Spencer didn't comment.

"Would you prefer all of your language guides to go in their own section, or with the group of volumes they're meant to translate?"

Bobby grabbed a dust cloth from the small container on his desk and started dusting every surface of the library. "In their own section," he grunted. "If I get new books, I'll need to know how to easily find the translations. I've got to be able to find things quickly. Gotta get my information fast."

Spencer swallowed, thinking of Dean again. (Why did _everything_ have to come back to Dean?) "I'll start putting them on this shelf then."

They worked in silence for a few hours before Spencer decided it was time for lunch. He went out to make a few sandwiches, and found Barlow already in the kitchen, heating up some potato soup from the fridge.

Barlow looked up when he entered the kitchen and gave him a knowing smile. "Hungry?"

Spencer nodded and rested a hip against the fridge.

"You okay?" Barlow asked, taking in the defeated posture.

"Neither of them is talking to me," Spencer admitted quietly. "I don't know what to do."

"You're doing fine. They just need to know someone's here for them. They need someone who understands."

"But I haven't even been here much. I saw Dean maybe a grand total of twice this past year. I wasn't there the other night, when—"

He couldn't say it, but Barlow understood what he meant.

"You think that makes it any easier for you? You think you're hurting any less?"

Spencer couldn't look him in the eye.

"Bobby and Sam, they're just trying to figure out how to keep going. Right now, you're focusing on taking care of them, but they don't know what to do. They aren't watching out for each other, or for you."

"So mourning is selfish—is that what you're saying?"

"I'm not talking bad about anyone," Barlow corrected. "Contrary to popular belief, Bobby is one of my best friends. I know he's hurting right now. All I meant was that you've found yourself a coping mechanism, and they're still looking for theirs."

Spencer glanced back towards the hallway. The library door was closed. "Are you sure they're still looking?"

Barlow sighed tightly. "Come over here and stir this soup. I'm going to get the guys for lunch."

Spencer didn't feel up to pressing for an answer.

He looked up from the soup when Barlow returned with Bobby a few minutes later. Bobby sat down as soon as he could at the table, and rested his head on one hand.

Spencer looked to Barlow, but the older man just shook his head in reply. Then Spencer was left alone with Bobby. He turned back to the soup, pulling it off the stove and going for the bowls and bread. He served the food to Bobby silently.

The entire meal was spent in much the same silence. Barlow returned after a while, but Sam wasn't with him.

"Said he wasn't hungry," he explained as he took a seat.

Spencer looked worriedly towards the kitchen window, but Sam wasn't in sight. "Should I—"

"No," Barlow cut him off. "Let him be. He's okay."

The younger man nodded.

Lunch was a quiet affair.

* * *

Spencer spent most of the afternoon in the library, working on the book organization. Bobby was in and out of the room helping organize until he was taken away by the urge to clean some other part of the house. He ended up in the basement for a large part of the evening. Spencer thought about following him around the house at first and helping with everything that came up, but he knew he would be more helpful in the library. And maybe if Bobby knew one thing was getting cleaned, he would be a little bit more calm about the rest.

So he got a lost for a while in the books, organizing the Greek lore and the foreign language texts. By the time he was done, it was dark. He looked up with a bit of surprise at seeing what time it was. Then he finally realized he hadn't seen Bobby for several hours.

Spencer made his way around the house, searching for his uncle. The living room furniture had been moved. The kitchen shelves were open, and most everything was lying out on the counters. Spencer paused in the room long enough to close the fridge door. Then he kept searching.

Bobby's room was the only room that looked untouched. Everything was still in its place.

Spencer followed the path of moved furniture and emptied shelves all the way to the basement. There were piles of junk spread along the staircase leading from the first floor. He could hear Bobby moving around downstairs, and he was mumbling. But something was off about it...

He came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

It looked like a fight had gone on in the basement. There was a maze of junk spread on the floor and leading to the door of the panic room. The cot that was usually inside was tipped on its side, mattress lying forgotten on the floor. Books that Spencer recognized but knew Bobby didn't use often were spread in piles throughout the area. There were two buckets of red paint in the doorway, and a pile of sharpies and duct tape. Towels, a bucket of water, and scrubbing brushes were next to them.

Something heavy crashed in the panic room, spurring Spencer into motion. He hurried around the piles of books and jumped over a familiar emergency go-bag. He paused just long enough to push the cot more out of the way, then came up short at the entrance of the panic room.

Bobby was struggling with a metal shelf against one wall of the panic room, apparently in the process of moving it somewhere else. Barlow was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, looking like he had been there for a while.

Barlow looked up in surprise, and something else that Spencer didn't have time to translate before it disappeared. Bobby didn't even notice his entrance.

"What's going on?" Spencer asked warily, after seeing the way Barlow was watching him.

Bobby shoved the shelf one more time. "I'm cleaning. This yahoo refuses to help. But we've gotta organize stuff. This place has been such a mess for years, I should've cleaned it before. It's about time I got to it."

Spencer stepped over the paint cans and scrub brushes to enter the room. "Bobby?"

His uncle turned, and it was then that Spencer could see he was clutching a bottle of liquor in one hand.

"Spencer? What're you doin' here?"

His words were slurred.

Bobby turned back to the shelf he had been moving, pausing only long enough to take a gulp of alcohol. "'m movin' stuff, t' clean. Gotta org'nize this pig stye..."

Spencer tuned out his uncle's drunken mumbling to look at Barlow incredulously. "What the hell, Steve?"

Barlow pushed off from the wall with a placating hand motion. "Now, Spencer, just calm down. I've got a handle on this."

"A handle on this?" Spencer asked, his voice getting shrill and loud. "A handle on what, exactly? He's drunk!"

Barlow gently pushed him back out the doorway, or tried to. "Spencer, I've got him. He's fine. He just—"

"He's not fine! Look at him!"

Bobby didn't seem to realize they were talking about him. He was too busy scrubbing a ragged cloth over the top of the shelf to dust it. His mumbled words sounded at times almost too slurred to understand now.

"Spencer, go back upstairs. I'll take care of it."

"You'll take care of it? Like you were taking care of it when I came in? Just standing back and letting him at it?"

Barlow crossed his arms. "Believe it or not, yes, I'm taking care of it. He needs to know this isn't going to help anything."

"He shouldn't have to get drunk to know that."

"Well maybe just this once, he does."

Reid wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. "Steve—"

He didn't have time to start yelling. There was a thump from the far end of the panic room, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bobby go down.

He shoved Barlow to the side to reach Bobby first, but his uncle was too heavy for him to move on his own. Barlow came up beside him a second later and silently helped him get Bobby up and seated against the wall.

Bobby's eyes were at half-mast, and when he tried to talk it came out in a gruff tone that couldn't be understood.

"Damn it, Steve," Spencer sighed. "He's a mess. I've never seen him like this. What should I do?"

"There's nothing you need to do, kid. I'll get him up to bed."

"I'll help you."

Barlow laid a hand on his shoulder. "I've got it. You should get yourself to bed, Spencer. Let me deal with him."

Spencer glared. "He's my uncle, you know."

He was angry, and he hardly knew why. Barlow didn't need to protect him—he was a grown man. Reid could take care of his own uncle. He could take care of his family.

As if reading his mind, Barlow only gave him a knowing look and steadied Bobby when he started to list to the side. "I'm just giving you a hand, kid. I know you could handle him if you had to."

But Reid needed to argue. "I'm not helpless you know."

"I know you're not helpless, Reid. But you _are_ exhausted and upset. All you've been thinking about since you got here is how to fix Sam and Bobby. But kid, it's just not that simple. You can't fix them—they have to figure this out for themselves. You need to worry about _you_." Barlow glanced at Bobby and sighed. "Go get some rest... I'll put him to bed."

Spencer wanted to argue. He wanted to yell. But it was like the fire inside of him just died. Barlow was right about him being exhausted. He hadn't even really noticed until now.

He left his uncle to Barlow's care, and dragged himself upstairs.


	16. Snapshots: Spencer

**Author's Note:** This chapter just about broke me... :( *Tissue Warning!*

* * *

"Snapshots Of Mourning: Spencer"

**Spencer:**

Spencer didn't say anything when Barlow pushed the awful green and brown print armchair to his bedside. It was one that Bobby kept in the storage room upstairs which housed random odds and ends that he was too much of a pack rat to throw away. It was old and dusty, and creaked if you moved in it. The chair scraped along the wood floors of the upstairs hallway the whole way from the other room. He pretended not to notice. He didn't even look, just rolled over so his back was to the man.

He lay on the bed, pretending to sleep, tucked into the dents of the mattress that Dean had slowly worn into it over the many nights he had spent lying in that exact spot. And somehow Barlow fell asleep in the awful chair.

Hours later, Spencer heard the sound of the back kitchen door opening and closing softly. He knew who it was without hesitation, but he waited for a moment to make sure Barlow hadn't woken up. He was still snoring quietly, so Spencer decided it was safe to get up. He carefully swung his feet out from under the covers and moved to the window.

Sam was out there again that night, sitting on the hood and telling his thoughts to the wind.

It hurt that Sam wouldn't talk to Spencer. But he understood. Or, rather, he was willing to pretend he understood. Sam wasn't ready to talk yet, so Spencer wouldn't push him.

Talking was how Sam worked through whatever was bothering him. He had always been that way.

But truth be told, Spencer wasn't really ready to hear it yet. He didn't know what to say yet.

* * *

The third day, Spencer didn't want to get out of bed. He lay where he was and waited, as if hoping the world would make sense once the sun was finally high in the sky. He was tired. Too tired to deal with anything.

Barlow woke at dawn, his body too conditioned to do anything else. The uncomfortably lumpy armchair he had slept in probably had something to do with it too.

Spencer waited for the sound of his footsteps to disappear down the hallway before he opened his eyes. Sam was lying awake in the other bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sam must have felt Spencer's eyes on him, because he turned his head to face him.

"Hey," Sam mumbled.

Spencer made no reply. He was distracted by the sound of Bobby's bedroom door slamming open.

"Wake up, old man!" Barlow called loudly, drill sergeant style.

Spencer winced, knowing how badly this conversation was about to go. He recognized the tone of Barlow's voice.

But it was better that Barlow was down there, instead of him. Spencer wouldn't have been able to stand up to his uncle. He never could order that man around, not even for his own good. Fortunately Barlow had been a good friend of his for years. A good enough friend to give the occasional necessary kick in the pants Bobby needed.

There were a few words spoken in a low and gruff voice before something hit the floor. Or a wall, if Bobby had thrown it at the other man.

"I hope you know what an idiot you're being," Barlow replied loud enough to be heard upstairs.

There was another muffled reply, the tone getting slightly louder at the end, though not much more understandable.

"In case you hadn't noticed, old man—you've got another two boys to be worrying about! I found you up to your gills in alcohol yesterday! And I could've stopped you sooner, but I thought maybe you needed it. Maybe you needed to see that the bottom of a bottle isn't gonna help you any."

Barlow barely gave him time to reply.

"That brilliant plan of mine didn't work out too well, because I got too wrapped up in your mess and forgot to watch out for Spencer. He came downstairs looking for you, and guess what he found? Go ahead and guess what kinda shape you were in."

"He needs you right now. He needs to know you're gonna be okay, so that he can figure out how to be okay, himself. But we both messed up—you with your bottle, and me by thinking he might not come looking for you last night. 'Course he did though. And you were drunk as all get-out. You went and got yourself wasted, only to leave Spencer so wound up the kid about had a damn conniption when he found you!"

Sam quietly rolled out of his own bed to come sit by Spencer, moving him to lay on his back. He leaned on an elbow above the pillow, letting his other hand rest on top of Spencer's chest.

It was a protective gesture, oddly reminiscent of their childhood, back when Spencer had been a timid nine year old with nightmares of high school bullies and monsters of every kind.

"You think he doesn't feel guilty as hell? You think you're carrying all of the feelings of blame from this? What the hell, Bobby! I know you care for that kid, but you had better pull your crap together and start acting like it! You have to accept what happened and move on, because let me tell you something, Dean is not the only one you're gonna lose if you don't!"

That statement was followed by the crash of something heavy falling on the floor. Spencer jolted, but made no sound.

Sam's fingers spread a little wider on his chest, as if by covering more of him, he might protect Spencer from the angry words downstairs.

Barlow's voice was lower then, no longer yelling. "Bobby I've only seen you like this one other time, and that's when I met you. I won't let you go down that road again. You made me swear I wouldn't ever let you go back down that road if I could help it."

Spencer closed his eyes on that note, tuning the conversation out because he couldn't stand to listen anymore.

Sam, knowing how he felt, moved off the bed to shut the bedroom door. Spencer was a little surprised that he came back to the bed, tucking himself up against Spencer's side again and splaying a hand across his chest.

They sat there for a long moment, listening to the voices that rumbled downstairs. It was better though. They couldn't understand the words anymore.

"Why won't you speak to Bobby?" Spencer asked quietly.

There was a moment of silence as Sam considered his reply. "It wasn't my idea for us to not talk," he said petulantly.

"What did he do?"

"Doesn't matter. He's being unreasonable."

Spencer knew that wasn't the complete truth just from his voice. "Well then tell me what happened. Maybe we can work it out."

Sam looked away, his fingers drumming absently on Spencer's chest.

"Sam."

"He didn't want me to bury the body."

Spencer turned that over in his mind, not sure of how to reply. "What?"

Sam shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. "He kept saying if anything finds it..."

It could be used as a vessel for any kind of possessive being. Not to mention the threat of hexes, curses, and etcetera that could be attached to a dead body or _completed with_ parts of a dead body.

"He wanted to burn it," Spencer said with understanding. "But that's a standard hunter's funeral. Why didn't..."

And then it hit him with enough strength to make him sit up and stare at the younger man. "You're planning to bring him back!"

Sam huffed and got off the bed so that he wouldn't have to look at Spencer.

"Sam! He made you promise not to make a deal for him!" Sam made no reply, and that made Spencer all the more desperate. "This isn't what he would want, Sam. You know that. If you get yourself killed because of this..."

"I can't just leave him down there!" Sam snapped. "He's my brother!"

"He was my brother too, Sam."

Sam looked away. "It's not the same. You don't—"

"Don't what?" Spencer quickly got off the bed and crossed the room. "Don't understand? Don't know what you're feeling right now?"

"I spent almost my entire life right beside him! He _raised_ me, more than Dad ever did. It's not the same."

Spencer shoved him. "Don't you dare, for one minute, think that this means less to me than it does to you. Don't you _dare_ think that you're hurting so much more! I may not have seen you guys every single day, but it doesn't mean we weren't close."

For a second, Sam looked ready to punch him. He glared down at Spencer. "Just leave it alone, Spencer. You don't understand. He was everything I had, and it's my fault he died!"

"I can't let you do something so stupid as to throw away the life that Dean gave you!" Spencer argued loudly. "You guys and Bobby are my family. And maybe you think losing one member of your family means the others don't matter—but that's not how I think! I'm not just going to forget about you now that Dean's gone! I won't start ignoring you like you've been ignoring Bobby!"

"I'm not ignoring Bobby!" Sam yelled.

"Yes, you are!" Spencer yelled back. "What—do he and I not matter anymore? Are we not good enough for the legendary Winchester family? Then how were you allowed to stay? Because I remember you leaving your family behind! I remember you moving to the farthest edge of the country and ignoring Dean! You left him alone—without ever bothering to check up on him! Did you even know that he showed up at my house completely drunk, and bleeding out! I had to rush him to a hospital, but he almost died on my kitchen floor, because he was so messed up by your leaving that he tried to take down a ghoul while still drunk! You never knew because you never checked on him! That's what brothers do—so if you never spent a second of your precious time to make sure Dean was all right, how come you were still part of the family? How come you were still good enough for—"

Sam moved so fast that Spencer barely had a split second to realize what was about to happen. Then his fist was connecting with Spencer's cheek and he was falling to the ground.

"Hey!"

Spencer barely heard Barlow running into the room. He was too busy making sure his face hadn't been fractured. He was only vaguely aware of Barlow pushing Sam out of the room, both of them yelling the whole time. Only when the door slammed shut, did Spencer let his hand drop from his face and lay back on the floor.

Barlow sighed across the room before coming to kneel beside him. "You okay, kid?"

"I'm losing them, aren't I?"

Barlow pulled him into a sitting position and helped him get propped up against the bed. "They're just trying to figure things out, Spencer. It'll be okay. Everyone mourns differently, but it just so happens that both Bobby and Sam kind of suck at it."

Spencer allowed himself a short laugh at that, but it was filled with bitterness. "Yeah, that's the Winchester way..." He winced when Barlow's thumb pressed against his swelling face.

"I don't think anything's broken," Barlow said after a long moment. "But it's already swelling and it's definitely going to be a sight."

Spencer briefly wondered if he could find a way to hide it before his flight back to Quantico in a few days. Morgan would definitely hassle him for it.

"Come on," Barlow said gruffly. "Let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

Spencer kept to himself for the rest of the day. Barlow was busy trying to get Bobby back into sorts. Sam stayed outside, shifting from the Impala to random areas of the scrap yard, and back.

For once, Spencer was alone with nothing to do. He didn't have the energy to get up and clean everything Bobby had done the day before. There were piles of junk to be put away, furniture to be shifted back, but it didn't matter enough. He was too tired to care about any of it.

He spent a good hour and a half sitting in the lumpy armchair, staring at Dean's bed.

He could see the worn areas of the mattress that had sunk in after so many nights of use.

It seemed like Dean had left an almost visible mark on every part of the house. The coffee mug that he had claimed as 'his' was sitting on the kitchen counter. A pair of his worn-out boots were by the front door still. Some of his extra clothes were in the closet. His toothbrush was in the bathroom.

It didn't stop there.

Dean was everywhere in this house, and it was killing Spencer to see that.

But because he was alone and it wouldn't hurt anyone, Spencer let the tears roll down his face. They mixed with the slow drip of the melting ice pack held to his cheek.


	17. Snapshots: Their End

Snapshots Of Mourning: Their End

**The Fourth Day:**

The morning of the fourth day, Barlow scoured the entire house, and much of the salvage yard, draining bottles and throwing them in garbage bags. Bobby didn't try to fight him; he just sat in the chair at his desk and let it happen.

Spencer could tell from the way his hand shook as he refilled his glass of water that Bobby was exhausted.

Spencer spent most of the morning in Bobby's office, pulling out random books that caught his interest and reading parts of them. There were a few new volumes of language texts that had been added in the last few months.

His Japanese was a bit weak still, but not as bad as his Maori.

* * *

At lunch, Barlow announced that he and Spencer would be leaving in a few hours. That was news to Spencer, but he wasn't about to argue. There wasn't anything he could do here anymore.

Barlow was sitting in Dean's chair at the table, and Dean's green mug was still on the counter between the coffee maker and the fridge.

Everything here still hurt. Maybe he would feel better somewhere else.

* * *

Sam still hadn't said a word to him by the time Spencer had everything packed back in his bag, and was getting ready to leave. Sam was actually avoiding him. But Spencer was letting him for the most part.

Spencer had woken up to find that Barlow must have moved him from the armchair into the bed that still smelled like Dean. The other bed was empty. Sam had slept on the couch. He hadn't even come to the room to grab a change of clothes or a pillow.

Spencer had tried to get Sam's attention during lunch so that he could let him know, even if silently, that he wasn't mad about the fight. But Sam had taken one look at him when they sat down at the table, and had then firmly faced his guilt-ridden eyes towards his plate, refusing to move them. As soon as lunch was over, Sam practically bolted for the door.

He understood it. But it didn't mean Spencer was happy about it. He was feeling guilty too, for all that he had said.

* * *

"Are you ready to go, kid?" Barlow asked him after they had tucked Spencer's bag into the trunk of the rental car.

"I just need a moment," Spencer answered quietly. At Barlow's nod, he headed deeper into the salvage yard.

Sam wasn't by the Impala. It would made this easier. Spencer pulled the letter from his back pocket and went to tuck it under one of the windshield wipers where Sam could find it later.

It felt kind of weird to be touching the Impala. The car was so much a part of Dean's life that seeing it without him was just...wrong.

Spencer ran his fingers over the hood for a brief moment. "I'm keeping my promise. I'm trying to take care of Sammy and Bobby." He swallowed. "Goodbye, Dean."

He turned back, and went to say goodbye to his uncle. Bobby gave him a tight hug, mumbling an apology that Spencer accepted with a small smile. Then Barlow started up the car, and they headed for the airport.

* * *

_Sam,_

_I didn't mean what I said. You're not a terrible brother. In fact, I wish I were a better brother like you. I wish I could risk everything to try and get him back, but I can't._

_I can't risk you._

_I'm sorry for what happened between us. If I call, will you still answer? I don't want to lose you too._

_- Spencer_


	18. The First Day Of Four Months

**Author's Note:**

I have one last college final to go, and NaNoWriMo-2011 is now over, so I have some time to write again. (It was my first year to lose the competition... *tear* But I was so busy with school and my two part-time jobs that I just couldn't do it this year.)

Now, I can finally focus on finishing this fic! We're getting close to the end. *crosses fingers*

**Disclaimer:**

This is the last sad chapter guys, I promise! Also, sadly, I don't own any of the boys. :( But if Kripke would like, I would totally buy the rights from him! (If only I had a million dollars...!)

* * *

Spencer Reid's first day back at work with the BAU was, for lack of better words, incredibly uncomfortable.

Morgan wouldn't stop asking him what had happened to his eye. Penelope sat by his desk for at least fifteen minutes, petting his hand while he was trying to work, as if this might somehow comfort him. JJ bought the team lunch from Reid's favorite sandwich shop. Prentiss didn't poke fun at him even once. Even Rossi seemed more subdued than usual. And Hotch pulled Reid into his office to ask how he was doing and how his family was doing, then proceeded to watch Reid carefully for the rest of the day.

"I'm fine," he told them.

He wasn't. And they knew it.

How could they not?

Every time Reid's thoughts turned to Sam, he would reach up and touch the edges of his bruised eye. This happened so often that Morgan left a bottle of Tylenol on his desk when he walked by. Reid didn't hold up any form of conversation when Penelope came to smother him. He barely ate any of his sandwich from JJ.

He avoided Hotch's gaze whenever possible. The man kept watching him like he could read the younger man's thoughts. Reid was sure he wouldn't be able to hold his composure if he looked Hotch in the eyes for more than a second.

Morgan tried to get him to talk about it. Penelope called him "sweetie" and "honey." JJ gave him careful hugs, as if he might break with more pressure.

Reid was glad for how much his team cared. But it was hard to keep from bawling all over the bullpen when they kept giving him those tentative smiles.

It was a rough day.

And then he called Sam.

He dialed the number at 6:00pm, thirty minutes after he arrived home. Morgan had offered to take him out for drinks, but he hadn't had the energy to accept. And he wanted to talk to Sam.

Sam answered on the third ring. "Hey," he said softly, almost hesitantly.

"Hey," Reid said back. "I wasn't sure you would answer," he admitted.

Sam cleared his throat. "Well...a promise is a promise."

"No matter how small," Reid tacked on, a slight smile blooming.

Sam chuckled a little. "Exactly."

It was an old saying between the two of them, from back in the days when Sam had been getting ready to run away to Stanford. He had been upset with all the broken promises his father had given him.

"I uh, I'm sorry about the other day," Reid said.

"You shouldn't be. I was an ass."

Reid smiled. "I guess I won't argue that, but it doesn't make me any better."

Sam didn't comment. "How was your first day back today?"

"It was okay. Morgan teased me about getting into bar fights, and the girls all tried to pet me."

"Sorry about that eye..."

"It's okay," he replied. And it was. "What's a little bruise between brothers?"

Sam was quiet at that. Reid hoped it had been okay to say.

"So we're cool?" Sam asked after a moment.

Reid felt his heart flutter in relief. "Yeah. We're cool."

* * *

Sam left South Dakota a day after Reid did, though no one knew exactly where he was going. He didn't even say goodbye to Bobby, instead choosing to slip out the door early in the morning, sneaking away in the Impala.

It was the first time Sam had been in the Impala since... But, then, Reid had always known he would drive it again someday.

True to his word, Reid began calling Sam every day.

The first week of phone calls was painful. Sam was so broken by Dean's death. It was hard for either of them to talk about Dean, and almost harder (in a way) to _not_ talk about Dean when he was on both of their minds every time they talked. But whether they spent the entire phone conversation reminiscing about Dean or awkwardly talking about the weather, Reid called every day because he knew his _brother_ needed it.

He didn't tell Sam about Dean's last request. Didn't admit that Dean asked him to take Sam as brother. He just slipped into the role quietly.

When he called Sam, he asked how he was doing and let Sam rattle off monotone nothings in return. Sam didn't say it outright, but Reid knew he was searching for the demon. Lilith. It was a subject that neither of them could broach at first. Reid knew how dangerous going after Lilith could be, but he also knew that wouldn't deter Sam.

Two weeks later, Reid realized Sam was hunting again, this time alone. They talked about his hunts a few times, searching for safe topics. Reid even sent him on a hunt after finding the case-file on JJ's desk. He was careful to find a simple salt n' burn though. Sam didn't have backup.

By the fourth week after Dean's death, it became suddenly obvious to Reid that Sam wasn't talking to Bobby anymore. If Reid brought him up in conversation, Sam shut down. When Reid asked Bobby about it, he realized the older hunter hadn't heard from Sam since he left the salvage yard.

If the first month of phone calls was painful, the second was excruciating. Sam began to sound heavily depressed. Reid worried about him. Begged him to go to Bobby's.

Sam finally talked about hunts he was doing, but they sounded almost like suicide missions to Reid now. He needed backup. But Reid was the only person Sam was talking to right now, and he was in no way ready to become a hunter. Even if he had wanted to go, Sam refused to tell him where he was.

But Reid kept calling him. Every day at six o'clock in the evening, his time, he called.

Still, Sam fell deeper and deeper into depression. It was painful to listen to.

Then, the third week of the second month, there was a change. Reid couldn't have explained it, because he didn't really understand it, but something about Sam changed. He was a little less depressed. Reid could hear the slight tell in his voice that meant Sam had a goal he was striving for. A mission.

And he was hiding something too. Reid didn't know what at first. It took him almost two weeks to realize Sam was with Ruby again. Sam never admitted it, and Reid never called him out on it. But Sam probably guessed that Reid knew.

Halfway through the third month, Reid knew Sam was edging towards dangerous territory. He was spending all of his time with Ruby. She had even answered his phone twice, pretending to be a friend of Sam's. Reid didn't buy it.

He knew Ruby was dangerous. She was a _demon_! But for the life of him, he didn't know how to talk to Sam. The one time he even broached the subject, Sam shut him down so fast he was almost scared to call the next day. But he did anyway, and Sam pretended like nothing had happened the previous day, so Reid followed suit.

Reid felt like he was failing his family. Sam was completely off-radar and living it up with a demon. They talked every day still, but it was hard to get Sam to talk about anything that really mattered. He was closing Reid off.

Bobby was hardly doing any better. He tried to hide it from Reid at first, but Reid wasn't a behavior analyst for nothing. Bobby was drinking more heavily than before. He was taking a few more hunts, and risking a few more last-minute-plans. He was fighting depression and guilt. Reid tried to get Barlow's help, but neither of them could really do much to fix Bobby. The man had lost his son.

Bobby and Dean were not related in any biological way of course, but in the Winchester/Singer family, blood hardly mattered. Reid had been Dean's brother, and Bobby had been their adoptive father. Dean's death left a gap in their family, and it hurt.

A week from the four-month mark, Reid realized he was losing his family. Bobby hit a rough case and called him one night, completely drunk and utterly depressed. The following phone call to Sam hardly went any better, though for different reasons. Reid had lost Dean to death, but he was losing the rest of his family in a completely different way.

Margie and Steve Barlow stuck with him through it all, but it didn't fix the way he felt about losing his other family. The Barlows were like an aunt and uncle to Reid, if Bobby was like a father. In the months after Dean's death, they dragged him home for dinner no less than two or three times a week. The guest room was open and ready for him whenever the silence of his own house was too stifling. Margie called him in the evenings to chat when he got home from work. Barlow found excuses to pass through his floor at work and drop off things to eat throughout the workday.

They did what they could.

Barlow even went over to Bobby's a time or two, when Reid knew he was about to go off on a hunt and needed backup. He went for Bobby's sake, but he also went for Reid's. He knew the younger man couldn't handle another loss of family.

And so, four months passed as half of Reid's family slowly slipped away from him. But the four months ended with a phone call from Bobby in mid September.

"_You're never going to believe this, kid. I didn't at first, but I've done every check I can think of doing, and it's real. Spencer...Dean is back."_

* * *

**AN:** Yikes! I hope you guys have survived all of this angst, because we are moving on to happier times!

Also, I kept wondering about the exact dates for this. So I researched.

**Name, DOB, current age in 'Verse & Cannon timeline between S3 and S4: (May 5****th**** 2008)**

Sam Winchester: May 2, 1983 - - 25yr

Spencer Reid: October 9, 1981 - - 26yr

Dean Winchester: March 24, 1979 - - 29yr


	19. You're Never Going To Believe This

**Author's Note:**

**Disclaimer:**

Sadly, all that I own is the intense joy of knowing this fic will soon be finished and posted! I don't own anything related to Supernatural or Criminal Minds.

* * *

Reid was sitting at his desk, making a second run through all of his paperwork to check for errors on the last case report before he turned it in to Hotch, when the phone call came. (Later, he would be glad that he had convinced his team to go to lunch without him, because it meant that no one was there to see his heart almost stop in his chest.)

"_You're never going to believe this, kid. I didn't at first, but I've done every check I can think of doing, and it's real. Spencer...Dean is back."_

At first, Reid couldn't even process it. "A-are you sure? What do you mean? You're sure it's not just a...a..."

"_He's no shapeshifter, revenant, zombie, demon, or anything. I have checked everything. I don't know how to explain it. He's not sure what happened either, but it's him. Dean's alive."_

Dean was alive...? Reid wasn't sure if he could breathe.

"C-can I talk to him?"

"_Sure. Let me get him. He's on the computer, searching for Sam."_

Reid listened as Bobby walked to the study. He heard Bobby say Spencer wanted to talk. Then the phone changed hands, and a familiar voice came on the line.

"_Hey, Spencer. How's my Wonder Boy?"_

If Reid hadn't already been sitting, his legs would have given out. "Dean," he gasped out, suddenly fighting tears.

"_Hey, hey...it's okay, Spencer. Breathe, little man."_

Reid closed his eyes and took a moment to collect himself, but didn't dare set the phone down for fear that he might lose this connection.

"Dean," he repeated after a few seconds, his voice stronger this time. "Are you okay?"

"_Yeah, I'm fine, kiddo."_

Reid smiled at that, not even caring to point out _again_ that he was only two years younger than Dean. It was fine because it was _Dean_ who said it. Dean was alive!

But his smile faltered as another thought occurred to him. "What do—I mean—do you...remember...anything?"

"_Nah, it's like a blank spot. I remember being in the dining room with Sam and Lilith, then just waking up in the grave a few hours ago. Nothing in between."_

He woke up in his _grave_? That alone would give Reid nightmares for life. But still, if that was the worst...well, Reid would call it a miracle.

"Good. That's good."

"_Do you know where Sam is, by any chance? I need to find him."_

"No, he doesn't ever tell me. I've been calling him every day, just like I promised, but he won't tell me where he is or what he's doing."

"_Figures. That emo kid won't take care of himself."_ There was a slight pause as Dean thought over his options. _"Hey, Spencer? Listen, I hate to do this so soon, but I've got a bad feeling about this, and I need to find Sam. Can I call you back after we get him?"_

Reid felt a little like he was going to throw up. "Yeah, sure Dean. Of course." Then he remembered his last phone call with Sam. "Call me as soon as you find him, okay? He's been...well, I'm worried about him, Dean. I tried to take care of him, but he needs you."

Dean hesitated for a moment. _"Something I should be worried about, Spencer?"_

The fact that Sam was practically living with a demon? The way that Sam was trying to hide whatever he was doing with Ruby?

"Uh, just—you need to find him. I'm not so sure he's doing very well right now. He needs you."

Dean sighed. _"I'll find him, Spencer. Don't worry about that. And I'll call you when we've got him."_

"Thanks, Dean. And...I'm glad you're back."

"_I'm glad to be back too, little man."_

"Take care of Bobby. He's...been drinking."

There was another soft sigh. _"I know. We're gonna fix this, Spencer. All of it. I'll find Sam and we'll hole-up at Bobby's for a while. Then you can come and visit for a few days. Okay?"_

"Sounds good. I'll hold you to that."

"_You do that. Bye, Spencer."_

Reid's heart stuttered at a sudden memory of Dean's last phone call. "Bye, Dean."

The line went dead, the phone going silent in his trembling hand. Only a single thought kept running through his mind, again and again, making itself known above the nausea that had settled in his gut.

Dean's alive...

Dean's alive...

Dean's _alive_...!

He had to find Barlow and tell him. Reid closed his cell phone and flipped the folders shut on his desk. Then he took off for the elevators. Running.

* * *

**AN:**

DEAN'S FRIGGING BAAAAAAAAACK! Let the fangirls REJOICE!

Now I've just got a few more chapters to wrap things up in nice shiny bows... ;D


	20. Checking In

**Author's Note:**

This is my one and only chapter _NOT_ written in Reid's POV. And there are reasons for that. I'm not sure they're great, but they're there. So there. ;p

It's another short chapter, but like the last one, I felt like this was all that needed to be said in this particular segment. :)

**Disclaimer:**

I own nothing related to Supernatural or Criminal Minds, except Barlow and his wife, and this story!

* * *

Bobby's cell phone rang when he and Dean were about an hour away from where they thought Sam was. He opened the phone and answered it. "Yeah?"

"_Bobby, it's Barlow. Can Dean spare a minute for me or are you guys busy?"_

"We're driving still. I'll hand the phone over." He held the phone out for Dean. "Steve Barlow."

Dean took it, a little surprised. "Hey, Barlow. What's up? Is Spencer okay?"

"_Yeah, he's fine, Dean. He came downstairs a while ago to tell me the good news. I just wanted to hear from you myself."_

Dean was uncomfortably aware of Bobby sitting right beside him, but this was important. "Listen, uh, Barlow...thanks for looking after Spencer for us."

The older man brushed if off as had been expected. _"You don't have to thank me, and you know it. Margie referred to him as our godson the last time we introduced him to a neighbor. Of course...I think she just didn't want to overstep her bounds and call him our kid."_

Dean smiled at that. He had only met Margaret Barlow a few times, but he was glad that Spencer had her. "Yeah well, it's probably none of my business, but I know he feels the same way about the both of you."

"_Yeah, I know. Listen, that wasn't all I wanted to call you about. He told me you guys were gonna try to find Sam before having Reid come up for a visit."_

"Yeah. Why?"

"_Just wanted to tell you that you had better find Sam quickly. Reid's already pacing."_ Barlow sounded amused.

Dean sighed a little. "Well, I didn't want to worry him earlier, but once we've got Sammy, we need to figure out how I got back. I can't really imagine that they just decided to give me a free hall pass downstairs."

"_Let's just say you invite Reid to come up on the weekend. How about that? It gives you four days. If you haven't figured out how you got back up here by then, you'll be ready for a break anyway."_

Dean chuckled. "Fine. I yield. I'll call him later and tell him to be here Saturday morning."

"_Thanks,"_ Barlow said drily. _"We'll all be waiting anxiously, believe me."_

* * *

**AN: **I don't know if that was very important to include, but I wanted to keep it in. :) *waves Creative License in the air*


	21. We're Good

**Author's Note:**

Okay, here we go, a slightly longer chapter. :) And after this, there is only one or two more chapters!

*wild applause erupts*

Thank you...! Thank you...! Oh spare my blushes!

**Disclaimer:**

I own nothing...sadly. If I owned Supernatural or Criminal Minds, Dean would get the occasional day off, and Reid would visit him! And of course, I would be there too...just chillin'...with Jensen Ackles and Matthew Grey Goobler...like usual, you know. Of course.

*Whine* Why can't I have them!

* * *

Reid dialed the all-familiar number more out of habit than anything when the clock read 6:00pm. It was the usual hour that he called Sam, and somehow he didn't even pause to wonder if he really needed to or not. He knew Dean was on his way—was probably almost there actually—but he wanted to talk to Sam once more.

He wouldn't ruin the surprise. He couldn't do that, though he wanted to with all his heart. Sam would know soon. By Reid's calculations, Bobby and Dean were probably thirty minutes out.

Sam must have been expecting the call, because he answered on the first ring. _"Hey Spencer, what's going on tonight?"_

And that was when it hit him. Dean was _alive_, and he was just going to talk to Sam like nothing had happened!

"Uh..."

Sam was immediately on alert. _"What's up, Spencer? Something wrong?"_

Reid smiled. "Actually, no. Um...everything's fine. How are you?"

"_Good, I guess. Are you sure everything's okay? There's nothing you want to tell me?"_

He wanted to so badly... "Sam? Can I maybe call you back in an hour or so?"

_Sam seemed a little thrown. Spencer had never asked that before in the past four months. "Yeah, sure. If you want."_

"Okay. Thanks. I'll uh, I'll talk to you later."

They hung up, Sam probably feeling very confused and maybe a bit worried. Reid couldn't do much about that now though. If he hadn't called, Sam would have been worried about him. But then again, he was worried about Reid now.

Reid shook his head at the conundrum. Dean would be there soon to see Sam. Then everything would be okay.

* * *

After an hour and a half of waiting, Reid was ready to scream with frustration. He was pacing in front of his desk, most of the team having gone home already. Morgan was still sitting there, watching him out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to finish some paperwork. Reid felt bad for worrying Morgan, but he just couldn't calm down.

Barlow came out of the elevators, took one look at him, and shook his head. "He'll call, Reid. Give him time."

"They should be in town already," Reid said in reply. "They should've reached it an hour ago."

Barlow came closer, leaning against the desk to get in the way of Reid's pacing. "Let them talk for a few minutes. He'll call after they've cleared the air."

"They're going to get distracted."

"They won't forget about you. I talked to him after you left earlier. He'll call."

Reid sat down at his desk with a sigh.

"What's this all about?" Morgan asked. He leaned back in his chair, finally giving up the pretense of doing any work.

Barlow glanced at Reid before answering as casually as he could. "A friend had a near-death experience. He called earlier to let Reid know he was okay, but he needed to track someone else down."

"He promised to call as soon as he found him," Reid said, almost to both of his friends. He suddenly sat up straight in his chair. "What if Sa—Brennan—isn't there anymore?"

"Then they'll find him. Calm down," Barlow said firmly. He studied Reid for a long moment, then shook his head and gave in. "Do you want to call and ask what's taking so long?"

"No," Reid sighed. "I shouldn't bother them."

Barlow rolled his eyes and pulled out his cell phone, already dialing. "Bobby? Hey. You guys found him yet?"

There was a pause as Bobby said something. Then Barlow smiled. "Yeah. Just wanted to check." He glanced at Reid. "That would probably be good. Okay."

Then he held out the phone to Reid. "They found him. Bobby's handing the phone over."

Reid took it quickly.

"_Spencer?"_ Dean.

Reid blushed embarrassedly. "Hey! Sorry to bother you guys, I just...uh..."

"_Yeah. I promised I'd call. Sorry."_

He stared at his feet, not really knowing how to reply. "Is he okay?"

"_Yeah. Sam's fine. I'm fine. Are you okay?"_

He glanced at Barlow and Morgan embarrassedly. "Uh yeah. Completely."

"_Can I talk to Barlow for a second? I'll have him give you the phone right back."_

Reid didn't want to give it up, but he passed the phone to the older agent because Dean had asked him to. "He wants to talk to you."

Then he frowned as he was forced to sit and listen to Barlow talking to his recently-revived brother.

"Yeah," Barlow said into the phone, glancing at Reid. He smiled fondly. "He was pacing. No, not that I know of. Just the morning cup." He laughed. "Yeah, don't worry about it. I won't let that happen again."

Reid frowned, already knowing what Dean was asking about. "I don't drink _that much_ coffee," he muttered.

Morgan burst out laughing. "Dude, if you aren't an official addict, I've never heard the definition of the word."

Reid turned his frown on Morgan. "I can function just fine without any coffee. I'm not addicted, I just like it."

Morgan just grinned at the defensive words.

Barlow pushed the phone back at Reid. "He wants to talk to you again."

He took it. "Hey."

"_Hey, little man. I knew you were lying to me earlier,"_ Dean said, a smirk in his voice. _"He says you were pacing."_

"Yeah well I'm fine _now_, okay? I just wanted to make sure you got to him."

"_Okay, okay. Fine. Listen, you should come up on Saturday. I figure we'll tie up our loose ends here by the weekend, so we can all meet at Bobby's. Can you get off work?"_

"Sure," Reid said, grinning. "I'll be there."

"_Good. Now stop worrying Barlow. I'll see ya Saturday. Oh—Sammy wants to talk to you for a minute."_

Reid winced as he heard the phone being passed.

"_Spencer?"_

"Hey, Sam." (He glanced at Morgan when he realized he had used the wrong name. Too late to cover it up though, he let it stand.)

"_You could have told me, you know."_

Reid was relieved to hear no anger in his voice, only a slight annoyance. "I didn't think you would believe me."

"_I guess."_ Sam didn't quite sound convinced. _"So...you're coming up on Saturday?"_

"Yeah."

"_Good. Haven't seen you in a while."_

Reid didn't remind him of the invitations he had offered. It would do no good.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, after a quiet moment. "I didn't mean to lie to you earlier."

"_I know, Spencer. It's fine. And you're right; I probably wouldn't have believed you."_ Forgiveness, even if it wasn't exactly the truth.

"We're good?" Reid still had to ask.

"_We're good. I'll see you Saturday."_

"See you then."

"_Oh, and uh...you can still call me tomorrow if you want."_

Sam sounded embarrassed to say it, but Reid smiled. He hadn't been sure how to ask.

"I will. You can count on it. Same time as always?"

"_Sounds good."_

Reid hung up considerably happier than he had been thirty minutes before.

* * *

**AN:** BAHHHHHHHHHH! I'm like ridiculously hyped-up right now!

In the next chapter, Reid will get to talk to Dean a little bit more once they're both alone. :D


	22. Goodnight, Sleep Tight

**Author's Note:**

Oh my gosh, this is the last chapter!

It has been a wild ride, writing this for you guys and reading the comments y'all have posted! Thank you so much for hanging in there. I am deeply sorry for how long it's taken me to get it all up here!

Now, without further ado... The finale!

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own anything related to Supernatural or Criminal Minds. If I owned any of these boys, I think I would like *die* on the spot...! But I don't. :( So sadly, I'm still living vicariously through fanfiction.

* * *

Reid was lying in bed that night when his cell phone rang. He had been staring at the ceiling for twenty minutes already, so he was glad for the distraction. His heart sped up when he realized it was Dean's ringtone sounding.

He answered it quickly. "Hello?"

"_Hey, little man. Guess what? Sam kept my phone."_

He smiled when he realized nothing was wrong. "Hey, Dean."

"_So um...I thought I'd call you now that I've finally gotten a moment alone."_

"Is everything okay?"

"_Yeah, everything's fine," Dean quickly replied. "I just wanted to see how you were really doing. We haven't really had time to talk about you yet."_

Reid grimaced.

He pulled his pillow up against the headboard and got comfortable, considering what he could say to that. Finally, he settled on honesty. "It's been a rough couple of months."

"_I know,"_ Dean said. _"I'm sorry."_

"I kind of...I didn't do so well with Sam or Bobby."

"_You did fine, Spencer."_

"I couldn't help Sam. He wouldn't even talk to Bobby anymore, and he refused to come and see me. I couldn't make him take care of himself. I heard it in his voice sometimes that he was..." Reid swallowed. "He wasn't taking care of himself."

"_But he talked to you," Dean said calmly. "It was you who kept him grounded. You made sure he had at least some contact with the family."_

"Some good that did..."

"_What do you mean?"_

Reid couldn't tell him about Ruby. He wasn't technically _sure_ that she was the one Sam was spending time with. "Just...nothing."

"_Weird much?"_

"He wouldn't really _say_ anything," Reid argued, instead of admitting what he had really been thinking. "We barely talked about anything important."

"_He told me he appreciated your calls."_

Reid sat up straighter. "He told you that?"

"_Yeah. You did good, kid."_

"It didn't feel good." He closed his eyes at the memories. "I felt more like I was losing my whole family. Sam was off doing whatever it is he's been doing for four months." (Reid shuddered, and hoped Dean didn't hear the hesitation in his voice.) "Bobby was drinking more. They weren't talking to each other, and I couldn't come and see them. Barlow went up a few times, but he couldn't do much. Then Bobby called me one night, drunk, ranting about—"

"_Spencer!"_ Dean cut him off. _"I meant it when I said you did good. You held them together. Sure, they're a little worse for wear, but you didn't let them fall apart completely."_

Reid wasn't so sure about that, but he really didn't want to argue with Dean. Not now.

He was tired.

"_So tell me how you're doing. I know Sam and Bobby had a rough couple of months. What's been up with you? Had any really bad cases recently? Any good ones?"_

He let out a deep breath, almost wanting to pretend he was falling asleep and ask Dean to call him later. But it was Dean, and he couldn't hang up. He couldn't let him go.

"_Spencer?"_

"Yeah, Dean. I'm still here."

"_You been sleeping okay?"_ he guessed.

"I'm doing fine."

"_Then why does your voice sound all defensive now? You been having nightmares?"_

"Maybe," he mumbled.

"_Well you can let go of those now, little man. I'm back. I've found Sammy. We're gonna take care of Bobby. So you can stop worrying now."_

Reid smiled tiredly. "That sounds good."

"_Okay. Now how about this? If you have another nightmare, you can call Sammy and whine to him. Then you girls can chitchat and cry together. How's that?"_

Reid laughed, unable to stop himself. It was the first real joke Dean had made to him so far. He couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed that Dean had made it at his expense.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that..."

Dean sighed. _"And you know, kid, you can call me. Anytime you need. I'm gonna be here for a long while yet, okay?"_

He smiled. "Okay."

"_Okay. I'll let you get to sleep now. But be good until Saturday. And call me if you need to."_

"I'll talk to you later, Dean. And thanks."

"_Anytime, bro. G'night."_

Dean hung up before he could say goodbye. For a second, Reid froze, annoyed, but then he realized maybe it had been on purpose. Dean didn't want to say goodbye again anymore than he did.

He closed his phone and stared at it for a long moment, replaying the conversation in his head. Then he smiled, and settled himself back in bed.

"'Night, Dean..." he whispered at the ceiling. "Goodnight, brother."

This time he found little difficulty in closing his eyes and drifting off. For the first time in months, he didn't worry about nightmares coming to meet him in sleep.


End file.
